


The King's Sword

by CassandraRose



Series: Kingmaker [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apocalypse, Multi, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 80,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25746070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassandraRose/pseuds/CassandraRose
Summary: The Winchesters always knew The End was coming. Lucifer was free and the world was basically a speeding train headed for a cliff. A new bit of information gives them hope that there may be a way to beat the Devil: The Colt is still out there. Downside? It's in the hands of a crafty demon named Crowley who has his own plans to end the apocalypse.A season five AU fic and apocalypse reimagining. Part 1 of the "Kingmaker" Series
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Crowley/Bobby Singer, Crowley/Bobby Singer/OC, Crowley/OC, Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer (Brief), Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Series: Kingmaker [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867615
Comments: 39
Kudos: 50





	1. The King's Pawns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geethr75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geethr75/gifts).



> Hello, and welcome to my new story. Kingmaker will be updated every Saturday at around 8 pm EST starting on the 15th of August. There are 22 chapters, and all of them have been beta'd by the amazing geethr75 here on Ao3, and the story is now my gift to her. Thank you for all your help on this, and all my projects. You're an amazing person. 
> 
> Warnings, both TW and CW will be posted at the beginning of each chapter in an author note, as not all chapters have applicable warnings. All relationships but Crowley/OC are slow burn in Arc One. I hope you enjoy this journey, as it's been a joy to write. 
> 
> TW/CW: None

_October 31, 2009_

Castiel squinted from his place hidden behind an underpass pillar as he cradled his cell phone to his ear. There was a strange sound from Dean on the other end after he explained what he was witnessing.

"Okay, huggy bear. Just don't lose him."

Castiel huffed slightly and rolled his eyes as he watched the demon deal be sealed. The demon Crowley obviously fed off the discomfort of the man he was dealing with and truthfully looking at the human's soul Castiel couldn't really blame the demon for that.

"I won't lose him."

Castiel snapped the phone shut just as Crowley pulled away from the man. He could just make out the flippant remark as the human turned and stomped away, "See you in ten years."

The demon was moving a moment later and Castiel quickly stepped forward to follow. A moment later the demon vanished and Castiel went to follow the trail that had been left. He was able to only follow Crowley a short distance before he slammed into some of the strongest wards he'd ever encountered. He narrowed his eyes on the opulent building before pulling out his cell phone and redialing Dean's number. It only rang for a few seconds before Dean's gruff voice responded, "Yeah?"

"I can't get in. The wards are too strong."

"Alright, fall back then. Sam and I will honey pot our way into this."

"Honey pot? What does honey have to do with getting through wards?"

"It's-uh, nevermind, man. Come on home."

"Very well."

Castiel snapped the phone shut and found himself staring at the wards for several more seconds. There was something about them, something about the power humming through some of the angel specific sigils, that set him on edge. It was as if they'd been placed by an angelic being, but that didn't make sense. From what he understood Lucifer could care less about the demons, and Crowley wasn't the fallen archangel's biggest fan so unlikely to ask for such protection. Still, there was something about the soft glow that set Castiel on edge. It was interwoven with a clear demonic signature that even from the brief moments he'd seen the demon he could pinpoint belonged to Crowley. Crowley seemed smart enough to find anything to give him an advantage. Perhaps he'd come across discarded grace? It was a long shot but certainly a possibility. Given his waning powers, he could also be misreading the wards.

Castiel sighed and tore his eyes away from the wall and left with a flap of his wings. Hopefully, Sam and Dean would have a decent enough plan and his thoughts on the wards didn’t matter in regards to humans.

**Line Break**

Crowley looked out the window and snorted in amusement as he felt the angel leave the perimeter of his wards. He raised a glass to his lips, sipping at the amber liquid, as he turned away from the window and walked over to his desk. Things were moving quickly now. It seemed once Lucifer's feet were on the ground there was no more holding back on the sides of Heaven or Hell. Not that the bastards were being clean or neat about their frantic work while breaking the seals, but that was beside the point now.

He wanted this fight finished before it began.

He sat down and pulled a warded box out of his right drawer and set it on the desk. He flipped it open pulling out the gun that sat in its confines and examined it carefully.

"All this panic for one gun. How quaint."

Crowley couldn't keep the morbid amusement out of his voice as he eyed the legendary gun. He made sure the Colt was loaded with only two bullets once more. He was being overly cautious at this point, but knowing the Winchester's reactions, he couldn't be too careful. Once he was done he set the gun back in the box until he'd need it later. He was about to put the box away once more when his phone rang. His eyes fell to the caller ID and he found himself raising an eyebrow at the number flashing back at him. He let it ring for a moment, not wanting the caller to think he was overly thrilled at being contacted, before answering it and putting the phone to his ear.

"Well, well, it's been a long time."

His voice didn't give away his surprise at the call, but as there was a crash on the other side of the line and a stream of cursing, he frowned slightly.

"Crowley, I heard you put out word to the Winchesters about owning a certain gun."

The feminine voice carried a perpetual teasing lilt, but it was being drowned out by the obvious sounds of fighting in the background.

"Sticking your nose where it doesn't belong again?"

"It's my job to have my nose where it doesn't belong, Mr. King of the Crossroads. Have the years finally taken their toll on your memory?"

Crowley growled softly, but it lacked the heat it would have had anyone else dared make such a comment. Instead, there was the barest hint of amusement as he heard one of the combatants on the other end of the line die screaming some rather explicit things about the woman who'd delivered the blow.

"Calling me old means very little coming from you, darling."

"Careful, Crowley. One may think you were looking."

He leaned back into his chair and despite his mounting amusement pulled the conversation back on track.

"Why exactly did you call if you know my plans?"

"The Colt won't work on Lucifer, Crowley."

Those seven words felt like getting thrown into a vat of holy water laden with salt for good measure. Crowley snapped up from his relaxed position, his hand slamming against his desk as he snapped,

"What the bloody hell do you mean it won't work?!"

The shouted question wasn't answered immediately and he heard the phone clatter to the floor. The woman gave an annoyed shout and he barely heard her voice snap,"Hold that thought!"

It was muffled but he heard a body being slammed into the ground. His agitation grew with each moment the phone wasn't picked back up. After almost a full two minutes the soft whoosh of the phone moving through the air as it was picked up filled the line.

"Now," she continued as if nothing had occurred, "I meant what I said. It won't work."

"Yes, I heard you. Now tell me why."

He hissed the final word and it spoke volumes that he didn't receive a snarky response from the other line.

"Let me put it in simple terms. The Colt is a bomb and Lucifer is the sun. How effective do you think that would prove?"

There was more patience in her voice then he was used to hearing, and Crowley fell back into the chair as he visualized the picture being painted. He muttered the first thing that came to mind, "It will only piss him off."

"Bingo, and likely get whoever is wielding the gun killed. I know you're far too smart to go face to face with Lucifer. That explains the Winchesters’ involvement. Thing is, those hotheaded hunters will blame you if anyone dies on this mission and then-"

Crowley exhaled sharply and shut his eyes as he tried to arrange his thoughts. Sadly his mouth had a mind of his own at the moment.

"Fuck me."

"Ah, thank you for the offer but I'll have to pass. Covered in far too much blood for such an activity."

"Must you be a bitch?"

There was a small laugh before she spoke once more, "Only because you're a bastard. So what's your new plan?"

"I need time to think. This changes things."

"I figured. Look, if you need me, you know where to find me. As far as hiding out goes, I think the time is up considering the pile of bodies in my office."

Crowley frowned and found himself asking before he could get his thoughts in order, “Lucifer loyalists?"

"In this case, yes. You'd think they'd learn."

"Could never accuse a demon who thinks Lucifer is the wise choice of being smart."

"Too true, too true."

There were several moments of silence and the woman spoke one more time,"I meant it. Get here if you need help. I've got to clean up this mess. Good luck, Crowley."

The phone call ended and Crowley set his cell phone down as he stared at the box that held the Colt with a frustrated expression. He had at least four days before those lumbering piles of flannel showed up at his door. Between now and then he'd have to come up with a different approach to the situation. So much for pointing the two hunters and their pet angel at Lucifer and waiting for the notice of the archangel's death. Now he may have to actually utilize his ace. His eyes fell to the phone at that thought and he found himself contemplating if that would be the worst idea given the limited options. He downed his drink and quickly poured another as he tried to riddle out the best course of action.

**Line Break**

_November 3, 2009_

Dean finished killing the demon quickly and turned to Jo with a grin. The younger woman smiled back at him as Sam offered her one of his larger jackets to warm up.

"Thanks, Jo."

"No issue. Be careful in there, alright? I'll wait in the car."

"Will do. Remember, take off if it looks like things are going completely tits up or call for Cas."

Sam nodded in agreement with him, but Jo just rolled her eyes as she turned to head back to the Impala.

"Whatever, I'm giving you an hour before I storm the castle."

"Jo, don't you-"

Sam put a hand on Dean's shoulder as Jo walked away stopping his brother from continuing to argue with the stubborn young woman.

"Don't Dean. You know she won't listen. Let's go meet this bastard and get our damn gun back."

"Yeah, let's get this over with."

The two of them slowly made their way into the large manor and Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes at the ridiculously opulent surroundings. The more they found out about this demon the less he seemed, well demony, and the more he came off as nothing more than an opportunist con man. Still, it wouldn't do well to underestimate the demon. That was how you ended up dead in a ditch somewhere or riding shotgun in your own body.

"Hey, Dean, let's put a Devil's Trap under this rug."

Sam's voice was barely above a whisper and Dean gave a small nod to show he agreed as they moved the heavy rug as quietly as they could. The manor seemed oddly deserted. Sam was spray painting the trap and Dean muttered just loud enough for his brother to hear, "Does this place seem oddly empty to you?"

"No? I mean, demons aren't exactly pack creatures or anything. Maybe he just likes being alone."

"Maybe, but isn't he like a big fish? Shouldn't he have, I dunno, underlings?"

Sam frowned as he finished the trap and shoved the spray can back in his pocket. Dean helped him move the carpet back into place only to bump into a vase and send it clattering to the floor.

"Fuck."

Dean hissed the curse as Sam shot him a look and they both backed up and tried to blend into the shadows of the room. Several moments passed before a well-dressed man walked through one of the doorways, a relaxed look on his face as he held his drink. Dean stiffened slightly at the demeanor even as Sam opened his mouth and called out, "It's Crowley, right?"

There was a flash of satisfaction in the demon's eyes and Dean wanted to get the hell out of the room. He found himself having to quickly reevaluate his thoughts on Crowley as he turned to them not looking at all surprised.

"So the Hardy Boys finally found me? Took you long enough."

The demon sauntered further into the room and for a moment Dean thought he may actually walk right into the trap. Crowley stopped though a moment before he stepped into it and frowned at the rug. It was slightly askew and it seemed that Crowley was far more perceptive than most demons. He leaned down, tossing back the carpet and giving them an annoyed look before his smooth British accent once more washed over the room, but with a more deadly edge than before,

"Do you have any idea how much this rug costs?"

A moment later Dean felt a strong grip around his arms as he was yanked back. He shot a look to his side and saw Sam in the same position as him. Crowley now stood a few feet in front of them as he pulled out The Colt and observed it with a half-interested look.

"This is it right? This is what it's all about."

His voice still carried that dangerous edge that spoke volumes about how comfortable he was with the situation. Dean knew he and his brother tended to send monsters, demons, and angels scattering in the opposite direction. It was something he took pride in. For Crowley to be utterly relaxed was disquieting. The gun was leveled at them and Dean froze for a moment thinking they may have actually met a demon smart enough to kill them. Then with the aim of a freaking marksman, Crowley put a bullet in the demons that were holding him and Sam before either could react. The bodies hit the ground and Dean shot his brother a shocked look as Crowley spoke once more, "We need to talk. Privately."

The demon began making his way into another room and all the two of them could do was follow after the overly confident entity. He finally stopped as he walked into an office and made his way behind the desk and Dean finally snapped, "What the hell is this about?"

"Do you have any idea how deep I could have buried this?"

The demon waved the Colt patronizingly at them, and Dean heard Sam let out the smallest hiss of annoyance before Crowley continued to speak, "There is no reason you, or anyone else," he seemed to pause at that thought and a strange look passed over his face before it blanked once more, "should know I have this except that I told you."

"You told us?"

Dean couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice. He had a feeling they'd been played but that seemed to be going a bit too far. The demon smirked slightly and set the gun down on the desk for a moment before responding.

"Of course. Rumors, innuendo, etcetera. Now," Crowley snapped his wrist and the office door slammed shut causing Sam to startle slightly at his side. Dean though refused to take his eyes off the demon, and Crowley seemed pleased at the obvious distrust, "Let's see if we can help each other, no?"

"How could you possibly help us?"

Sam snarled the question and Dean found himself tilting his head in agreement. Honestly, it wasn't like the demon was going to just hand The Colt over from the goodness of his heart.

"Well, by informing you upfront that this cute little antique won't do anything against Lucifer."

Dean felt his heart fall into his stomach at the seriousness that had bled into the demon's voice. No, that wasn't possible. The Colt was their one hope going up against Lucifer. It couldn't be a fucking dead end.

"You're lying."

Sam snapped out the statement, but there was a noticeable waver in his brother's voice. Crowley frowned and responded calmly, "If only I were, Moose. I've got it from a reliable source that shooting that tantrum-throwing child with this gun would be like bombing the sun. Pointless and disgustingly expensive."

Dean exhaled sharply at what was going unsaid. The expense in this case would be your life when the bullet failed to do its job and likely the death of anyone who went with you on that suicide run.

"I still don't-"

"Sam, stop."

Dean hated having to call out his brother in front of a demon but he had to. Sam shot him a questioning look and Dean spoke softly, "He's telling the truth. What reason does he have to lie? If he wanted us dead he could have shot us just now. Hell, he could have given us the damn Colt and sent us on our merry way."

Sam seemed conflicted and Crowley made it worse when he clapped his hands with a condescending smile.

"Well, Well, it seems the rumors about you aren't all true, Squirrel. Quite perceptive of you."

"You can fuck right off."

Dean snapped the statement not appreciating the backhanded compliment or snarked nickname. The demon didn't even look a bit wary about his increased temper. Instead Crowley chose to push on, "You are right of course. I have no reason to lie. I want Lucifer dead as much as the two of you after all."

"And why would you want that? Shouldn't you be glad Daddy Dearest is back?"

Crowley's good mood seemed to evaporate in a moment and he narrowed his eyes at Sam who glared back just as hatefully. Dean stepped forward slightly putting himself between his brother and the demon. Crowley raised an eyebrow but chose to respond rather than retaliate to Sam's obvious bait.

"Lucifer wants humanity dead. You're nothing to him, hell you're nothing to most of the angels as I'm sure you noticed. Now, if he succeeds where does that leave demons?"

When neither of them responded Crowley rolled his eyes and spread his arms, "Demons are next. He hates humanity, and what are we but the worst of humanity."

"He created you."

Dean felt the need to point that out but Crowley simply rolled his eyes as he let his arms fall back to his sides once more. The demon didn't respond right away but when he did his voice was deceitfully even. Dean had a feeling there was a rage bubbling right below the surface and he really had no desire to be on the receiving end of it.

"We're cannon fodder. Nothing more than foot soldiers he can point at the angels in an attempt to weaken Heaven's armies. We mean nothing to Lucifer, and I for one would rather him dead than myself."

Dean didn't have anything to say to that. He could see where the demon was coming from, and truthfully he fully believed Crowley's assessment about Lucifer. He never really understood why the demons were so gung ho for Lucifer, an archangel, to freely walk amongst them. Fanatical devotion seemed to be something both sides of this bullshit fight suffered from and Dean was sick of it. When neither he or Sam spoke up Crowley decided to move things along once more.

"Let's go back to simpler times, shall we? Kill or be killed is much more my speed than some family feud, don't you agree?"

"The Colt won't work, so unless you have a backup option you're just talking out your ass."

Sam's cold response had Dean watching the demon carefully. There was a moment, a blink and miss it moment, of hesitation before the demon spoke. It was as if he wasn't really sure he wanted to go this route but didn't have another viable option.

"I know someone who could possibly help. They have a vested interest in the outcome of this whole pissing match and would rather it not spill out and affect the general human populace."

"And why should we trust you? You may just be turning us over to Lucifer."

Dean didn't argue against his brother even though he didn't agree. He was mulling over Crowley's words and trying to place why the description of the person sounded familiar. As if he'd met another person who held similar ideals to what Crowley was describing.

"Well for one, I'm giving you a small gift."

Crowley picked up the Colt and to Dean's shock offered it to Sam. His brother stared at the gun but finally took it. Crowley sat against his desk and looked at them with a relaxed smile. Without warning, Sam turned the gun on Crowley and pulled the trigger without a moment's hesitation.

Well, at least his brother had learned trusting a demon wasn't worthwhile.

The gun didn't discharge though, and there was a hollow click that signaled that the barrel was empty. Crowley still looked completely at ease and after several awkward seconds of silence spoke, "Ah, you'll need ammunition won't you? Otherwise, it's just a fancy paperweight."

The demon walked back around the desk and Dean couldn't help but update his mental scoreboard. Crowley 3, Winchesters 0. The demon was more than a few steps ahead of them and it was showing. Sam shot him a confused look and all Dean could do was shrug as Crowley pulled a small wrap of ammunition from his desk. The demon turned around and held the bullets with a frown on his face.

"Look, I'm willing to introduce you to my contact. The Colt is merely me showing you that I'm serious about dealing with Lucifer."

"Do you even know where Lucifer will be?"

Dean had to ask the question because if the demon did, they may just have to take the plunge and deal with the consequences later.

"Why do you think I'm here? He's in Hell. Hence why my delicate ass is top side with no intention of heading back downstairs until he's dealt with."

Sam huffed and Dean made a quick choice that would at least leave the score 3 to 1 rather than the zero they currently had.

"Then, for now, we have no reason to team up with you. Your contact," Dean used air quotes and he noted with surprise that there was a genuine flash of annoyance in the demon's eyes that vanished rather quickly, "may very well kill us. We'll find our own way."

Crowley considered them for a moment and when it was clear they weren't going to change their mind he gave a careless shrug.

"Well, if you change your mind, feel free to reach out."

Crowley threw the bullets at him, and Dean grabbed them in surprise. By the time he looked up, the demon was gone. Dean unrolled the holder and was surprised to see a business card sitting with the bullets. He picked it up, staring down at, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Crowley, King of the Crossroads."

Sam read the card over his shoulder, shock clear in his voice. They exchanged a look and Dean had to begrudgingly change the score once more: final score 4 to 1, a crushing defeat for the good guys.

Damn it.


	2. Daniel 8:16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/CW: Heavy sibling arguments

_November 30, 2009_

It took all of his self control for Sam not to let the relief he was feeling show on his face. The Trickster's face had melted from amused to apathetic as the alternate reality they had been forced into faded away. He clapped mockingly and looked at them carefully as he spoke, "Well played boys. Well played. Where'd you get the holy oil?"

Dean didn't miss a beat as he responded seriously despite the absurdity of his statement, "Well you might say we pulled it out of Sam's ass."

Sam shot his brother a look but quickly turned back to the trapped angel.

"Where'd I screw up?"

There was a mild curiosity in the question and Sam responded coldly, "You didn't, but nobody gets the jump on Cas like you did."

"Mostly it was the way you talked about Armageddon." Dean added.

The man tilted his head and asked, "Meaning?"

"Well, call it personal experience, but nobody gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family."

Silence met Dean's statement, and there was a clear annoyance on the being’s face. Sam decided to push forward, "So which one are you? Grumpy, Sneezy, or Douchey?"

There was only a moment's pause as the being’s eyes met his, and for a moment Sam could actually feel the barely restrained power of the angel standing in front of them. 

"Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel."

"Gabriel? The archangel?"

Sam couldn't keep the anger out of his question. How dare he? How dare an archangel lecture them on playing their roles when it was clear he'd fled his siblings fighting. The archangel grimaced for a moment but tilted his head, "Guilty."

Dean was about to ask a question but seemed to decide to go a different direction,

"You're gonna bring Cas back."

"Am I?"

The mocking question had Dean narrowing his eyes and Sam heard the protectiveness creep into his brother's voice.

"You are, or we're going to dunk you in holy oil and fry us up an archangel."

Sam shot his brother a concerned look but turned back to Gabriel when it was clear his brother was singularly focused on his goal. Gabriel and Dean were staring each other down, and after a moment the archangel raised his hand with an aggravated look and snapped his fingers. They both looked over as Castiel appeared next to them and some of the tension melted from Dean's shoulders. 

"You okay Cas?"

"I'm fine," Castiel’s voice was tight as he was singly focused on Gabriel, "Hello, Gabriel."

It had been a while since Sam had heard such a venomous greeting. Gabriel smirked at Castiel and snipped back, "Hey baby bro. How's the search for Daddy going? Let me guess. Awful."

A pained look that passed over the archangel’s face that spoke volumes about how he felt about that particular situation. 

"That's it. We're done here."

Dean snapped, and turned around to leave and Sam was about to follow him when Castiel spoke up, "Dean, wait."

His brother stopped and turned toward Castiel with a strange look, "Why?"

"We need help. This may be our only chance."

Sam froze at the reminder that they still didn't have a way to face Lucifer. Gabriel's eyes narrowed as he looked between the three of them. Dean seemed to mull over Castiel’s words and turned back toward Gabriel. 

"Alright answer us this, asshole. Could you face up to Lucifer?"

Dean's question seemed to startle the archangel. Gabriel looked thoughtful for a moment before he shrugged and responded, "Could I? Probably. We're built rather equally in terms of raw power."

"Good. Then you'll-"

"Now Dean-o, I didn't say I would. Just that I could."

Dean scowled at the archangel and snapped, "You're our only chance at fighting Lucifer. We don't have any other weapons. Our last hope was The Colt!"

Gabriel snorted and Sam watched as he looked away from Dean, "Well, it's a good thing you didn't try that. Would be like chucking a bomb into the sun." 

Sam froze at Gabriel's comment. Maybe he was overthinking it, but it was strange to hear Gabriel use the same analogy as Crowley. The odds in that weren't good, and Sam quickly asked, "Do you know a demon named Crowley?"

Castiel and Dean shot him a confused look, and Gabriel turned to him with a strange look. It was as if he were amused and offended by the question at the same time.

"Crowley. Crowley. Let me think."

Sam remained silent, knowing the archangel was likely just playing with him, but when a thoughtful look actually passed over his face, the hunter found himself second guessing his thoughts.

"This demon, does he have a taste for nice suits and a snarky British accent?"

"Yeah, that's him."

Dean snapped out the response while Sam waited with bated breath. Was it possible they'd stumbled into Crowley's 'contact' without even meaning to? It would be better luck then they'd been having lately, but one hell of a win. One they desperately needed. 

"Crowley, I don't do raw deals," the shitty attempt at an accent actually saw a crack in Dean's annoyance but it was quashed quickly, "King of the Crossroads?"

"Wasn't aware about the first part, but yes him. Do you know him?"

"I know of him. Heard a lot of stories. Seems decent enough. For a demon."

The backhanded compliment killed any hope that Sam had that they'd struck gold. Perhaps the expression was just something that angels used, and Crowley had heard it along the way. Castiel always did talk about how angels’ true forms were a sight to behold. Perhaps the sun analogy made sense compared to that. 

"Why ya asking, Samsquatch?"

The question was very pointed, and Sam turned away from the soul piercing gaze of the archangel.

"It doesn't matter. He won't help us guys."

Sam hated how dejected his voice sounded, but he was getting tired of losing. Maybe they had been too quick to dismiss Crowley's offer of help. He didn't relish the idea of crawling back to the freakin’ King of the Crossroads and asking for help, but it looked like that's how it would go.

"Of course I won't help you. It's your destiny to become my brothers' vessels. Why would I try fighting the inevitable?" 

Dean looked like he was about to rip Gabriel's head off. Sam stepped forward to drag his brother away only for Castiel to step up and glare hatefully at the archangel. Sam could only stare in shock as the shadow of Castiel’s wings snapped around them for a moment. Dean looked surprised as well and the both of them could only watch as Cass ripped into Gabriel.

"You're forgetting your destiny, brother," the familial title was hissed and Gabriel looked as surprised as Sam felt at Castiel’s venom, "You're job is to protect humanity. As an archangel, it's one of your only purposes."

"Stand down, Cast-"

"No! It's time for you to come home and deal with this! You don't get to hide away and ignore the world burning around you."

Sam just stared at the furious angel and his eyes moved to Gabriel who went from surprise to a quiet fury. He pulled himself up to his full height and despite the ring of holy fire the shadows of Gabriel's wings stretched out behind him. It was clear that he was trying to cow Castiel into submission but the younger angel didn't look scared. Gabriel seemed to ignore him and Dean, and Sam was grateful for that. 

"You will remember who you're speaking to, Castiel. I've been dealing with Lucifer and Michael's crap longer than anyone else alive,-. except Dad. I've done my part, and now it's time to let the story play out."

"You act like I wasn't there, Gabriel. We've all been dealing with this. All of us." 

Castiel's snarled rebuttal had a dark look passing over Gabriel's face. Sam found it strange the way Castiel had stressed the word all, as if he was talking about someone specific without wanting to say their name. He shot a look at Dean, and his brother seemed to have picked up on the weight of the word as well and gave a slight nod as he turned back to the two angels. Gabriel's voice carried a barely laced rage as he spoke.

"You were a fledgling, Castiel. A child. You also never had the misfortune of having to deal with Michael and Lucifer's fights in person. You never had to convince your brothers that fighting wasn't what dear old Dad intended for us. That responsibility never fell to you, so don't you dare say you've gone through what I have." 

Castiel scowled but before he could cut in Gabriel continued his rant, his voice rising in pitch as he started to lose control of his temper. The air in the warehouse seemed to get heavier as the situation between the two angels deteriorated and it left Sam struggling to take deep breaths.

"You weren't in the throne room as the infighting between the archangels began. So you will remember your place before I remind you, do you understand me Castiel?"

The threat was clear, and Sam thought Castiel would back down. Gabriel's statement though seemed to throw oil all over the roaring fire that was Castiel's anger. The younger angel stepped closer to the fire and the air got just a touch heavier as the normally calm angel raised his voice even more.

"How dare you make it sound like you were the only one fighting for peace, Gabe." 

The snarled nickname seemed to cause the archangel physical pain and Castiel took the opportunity to push forward, "You're disgraceful, making Sam and Dean think that all the archangels were involved in this pathetic fight besides you! Worse, you're no better than Lucifer. Crying over the unfairness of the past instead of trying to create a better future."

The silence was deafening, and Sam thought Castiel may have actually won the argument. Then his ability to breathe was stolen from him. He shot a look over to Dean and saw him struggling to stay standing as well. For the first time since the argument had started Castiel looked scared. Not, ‘oh, look a spider’ put off, no his blue eyes were shining with pure terror and Sam wondered if the angel had gone too far against his brother. Gabriel opened his mouth and the next thing he knew his ears were killing him. 

He snapped his hands over his ears in an attempt to drown out the high pitched wail and saw that Dean was in the same position. Sam could barely make out Castiel taking several steps back, and once more shadowy wings were wrapped around him and Dean. It muffled the sound slightly but it still left his ears ringing. He looked over at Gabriel who seemed to finally take note of what Castiel was doing and he closed his mouth. It finally ended the horrid sound and the shadowy forms of Castiel's wings were slowly pulled away. For a moment, Sam saw a flash of regret in Gabriel's eyes but as his gaze went back to Castiel it was replaced by fury. 

"They were not your siblings, Castiel. You looked up to us more like parents then you did brothers and sisters.. You were one of the last angels born, and this disobedience shows that. You will keep a civil tongue in your head when speaking to a superior, or when I get out of this ring of fire, I'll give you a physical reminder."

Sam shot a look at Dean as his older brother pulled himself to his feet, a look of uncontrolled rage flashing through his green eyes at Gabriel's threat. Castiel though took on the look only a child could muster. Sam knew he'd worn it before. Back when Dean would give him directions as children and he'd spitefully snap that Dean wasn't Dad. 

"You have no right to remind me of anything, Gabriel. You're not my superior." 

"No, you're right, and I couldn't be more happy. I'd never want such a disloyal angel in my flock."

Sam frowned at the implication. Did Gabriel know that Castiel had turned his back on Heaven and chosen to fully side with them? It probably wasn't a well kept secret, but he hadn't expected everyone to know already. There was a flash of pain in Castiel's eyes and he quickly snapped back.

"She's long dead Gabriel. So many died during the fall, and there wasn't time to cling to the past. I had to make choices to survive, and Michael was better then Raphael. The other’s abandoned me! What would you have me do? Remain flockless and adrift? Run like you did?"

Gabriel didn't respond at first, and Sam found himself wondering what the hell the two angels were talking about. He'd thought Gabriel had been referring to Castiel turning his back on Heaven. Instead, now it sounded like he was talking about Castiel having served a different angel. He remembered Castiel mentioning he was once part of Anna's garrison and that Anna reported to Michael, but beyond that the angel hadn't revealed much about the Heavenly Host.

"Where were you, Gabriel?" 

For the first time in this argument Sam noted that Castiel's voice was dripping with pain. Gabriel broke eye contact with the angel at his impassioned plea, and Castiel's voice melted back into anger in response.

"Where were you, Archangel Gabriel, when you were needed? I would have joined you in a heartbeat!"

The silence was deafening and when Gabriel finally spoke his voice was hollow and emotionless. 

"I've already lost my sister and brother. That's a price I should never have been forced to pay, and they weren't the last ones. I won't help you, so the three of you can fuck off."

Castiel looked conflicted and finally turned away. His eyes were a maelstrom of emotions and Sam could only watch as he stormed toward the door. The angel stopped for a moment and he turned his head slightly, not even bothering to fully look at the still trapped archangel.

"If she were alive, she'd help us with this. Even if it cost her life."

The snipped statement had a startling effect on the archangel. Gabriel's shadowy wings were back with a vengeance and Sam couldn't help but stare as the archangel's eyes became a startling gold color. His power snapped out and the holy fire seemed to rise higher than it ever should have. It set off the sprinkler system in the warehouse and Gabriel glared at Castiel.

"We'll never know that, will we Castiel? Lucifer made sure of that."

With that the sound of multiple wings flapping filled the warehouse as the ring of holy fire failed and Gabriel was gone. For several moments there wasn't a single sound. Castiel hadn't even bothered to turn around at the archangel's snarled parting. Sam slowly walked over to the angel and could see the tension and anger seemed to have bled away to be replaced by exhaustion. 

"What the hell was that?!"

Dean seemed to have finally lost his fight with trying to reconcile what had just happened. Castiel didn't say anything for several long moments before he sighed and turned to Dean.

"Can we talk about this somewhere else?"

The tired question seemed to surprise Dean. His brother shot him a questioning look and Sam just shrugged slightly. Dean scratched his head and gave the angel a searching look. 

"Yeah, sure. As long as you promise to answer our questions."

"I will to the best of my ability. For now, let's get out of here. It reeks of smoke and cowardice." 

The snipped comment had Sam exchanging a look with Dean. It was as if the angel thought Gabriel was still nearby and wanted to get one last potshot in at his brother. Castiel walked out of the warehouse and all Sam could do was follow after the angel along with his brother, hoping that the explanation made some sense.

**Line Break**

Castiel sat down at the table in the small motel room. Dean sat across from him and Sam sat down on his bed. He was feeling more exhausted than he'd felt in a while, and with everything going on, that had to be some type of record. 

"So drinks?" Dean asked, and Castiel nodded. As the hunter went to grab the offered drinks, Dean also huffed in aggravation. "Damn it."

The statement was hissed as he slammed the mini fridge shut and his brow creased. Castiel could just make out Dean tapping his fingers impatiently against the beer bottles. Dean handed one off to Sam as he walked back to the table, and then slid the other across to him as he sat down again. 

"I can't believe this shit. Are all angels, no offence Cas," Castiel just snorted at his friend's reassurance but didn't say anything, "such cowardly dicks?"

"I don't know Dean, but we're running out of time, and we're out of options."

Sam's voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of trepidation as he spoke. Dean just shook his head and took a deep swig of his beer without further prompting. Castiel slowly brought the beer to his lips and frowned slightly at the taste. When had food and alcohol started to taste good to him? 

"I can't believe we're going to have to go crawling back to that smug ass demon."

Dean's voice was a mix between a whine and growl, and Sam's frown deepened at his brother's announcement. Castiel knew Sam couldn't be more anti-Crowley if he tried. The younger hunter had learned the hard way where trusting a demon got you, and now he stood firmly on the side of never wanting to see the King of the Crossroads again. Castiel couldn't blame Sam, but if they didn't find another option to halt or at least slow down Lucifer there was no telling what would happen. 

"We could keep looking."

Sam's voice was tight as he voiced the option. It was clear he didn't quite believe what he was saying but felt he had to say it. Dean sighed, breathing heavily through his nose as he took another sip of his drink.

"For what? Sammy, we're out of the fight. Finding out the freaking Trickster was the Archangel fucking Gabriel may have been our one ace. ‘Cept the bastard would rather turn tail and run then pony up and lend us a hand. That leaves us with no other option but Crowley."

"He's a demon. We aren't supposed to be working with demons, Dean."

"No, and Sam, don't think I don't see how against this you are. Trust me, I get it."

Sam looked away from Dean when his brother pinned him with a pointed look. There were several moments of silence before Castiel decided to speak up, "So what's the plan?"

Dean tilted his head, drumming his nails against the beer bottle as his brow scrunched in thought. 

"We have to contact Crowley. I'd feel much better if I knew exactly what that bastard was getting out of this, though. I don't trust a demon, and I trust an apparently honest demon even less." 

"From what you said, he made his intentions quite clear, Dean."

The hunter shot him a strange look and asked, "What are you talking about Cas? He only said he had plans."

"And aren't those plans obvious to the both of you?"

Castiel couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice. Two sets of blank eyes staring back at him had him shaking his hand and taking a deep swig of his own beer in response before he spoke.

"You described him as a planner. Someone who was three steps ahead of you from the moment you crossed the ward line. The hierarchy of Hell is a mess currently. Lilith is dead. Alistair is dead. Azazeal is dead. That leaves behind a power vacuum, and when Lucifer is finally defeated that vacuum will only grow."

"Your point? I didn't exactly get the 'politics of Hell' class during my time downstairs, Cas."

Dean's snapped question was greeted by an exaggerated roll of Castiel's eyes.

"Think, Dean. I know you're smarter than that. If all these leaders are dead or indisposed, what will happen?"

"I'd assume chaos, but how does that differ from Hell on a daily?"

Sam gave a sharp breath and Castiel looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. Sam quickly pulled himself together and spoke quickly.

"It's supposed to be organized chaos, right? At the end of the day, Hell does actually serve a purpose. That means Hell needs a leader who is at least somewhat competent."

Dean cursed low and slammed his beer down on the table and that was the signal that let Castiel know both brothers were on the same page.

"That crafty, cunning, bastard. He's setting up a takeover! Fuck, if he's always this far freaking ahead, he may actually get it."

Castiel raised an eyebrow at the mild awe mixed with the heavy disbelief in Dean's voice. Sam was giving his brother a side eye and asked, "Did you just compliment him, Dean?"

"GOD DAMNIT!"

Castiel snorted at Dean's shouted expletive which was more out of annoyance than actual anger. Even Castiel had to give the crossroads demon credit. He'd set the board up quite well, given the insanity of the Apocalypse. 

"Crowley aside, what were you and Gabriel talking about Cas? Hell, what was that whole angel speak bullshit? He almost blew our eardrums out."

Dean's question caused Castiel to sigh, and he ended up downing half his beer before he answered the probing questions.

"The things Gabriel said in our true tongue were far from flattering. I doubt you want me to regale you with the details."

"What did he do? Curse you out in Enochian?"

Dean asked the questioning jokingly but Castiel winced nonetheless. His friend seemed to notice and frowned slightly, "He did, didn't he?"

"In a sense. As I said, it was nothing polite and many things he said I can't directly translate as Enochian relies heavily on context."

"Some big brothers you've got Cas."

The mildly sarcastic comment held a decent amount of apology in it and Castiel smiled slightly at Dean in thanks. Gabriel's words had stung, and to be called a coward, traitor, and disgrace all at once by someone he used to look up to was a lot to take in, even for an angel. It didn't help that somehow that was the least hurtful of the things his older brother had said. He found himself lost in thought for several moments before Sam cleared his throat with a concerned look. 

Castiel shook his head and sighed, "I'm guessing you both have other questions? Please, just start asking. I'd like to get this conversation over with, honestly."

The brother's exchanged a look and Dean started the volley but not with the question Castiel had expected.

"Is it normal for the archangels to threaten other angels?"

Castiel blinked in surprise a few times before giving a slight chuckle. Dean gave him a strange look but Castiel shook his head.

"No. My, well my commander used to. It was never meant as a threat per se though. More just a way to push us to do our best in training. No one wanted to fight the commander."

"Michael that much of a slave driver?"

Dean's question cut right to the crux of the matter and Castiel winced. He really didn't want to rehash this, but he knew the Winchesters wouldn't let it lie until he at least partially explained the situation.

"No. Michael was actually quite against it. After all, an archangel shouldn't fight a mere angel. It wasn't a fair fight."

Sam and Dean looked at him in surprise and Sam quickly spoke, "Whoa, wait a second. You're saying there’s another archangel?"

"There was another archangel. She's dead now. Died during Lucifer's fall under suspicious circumstances. Michael ruled that it was Lucifer who killed her, but Lucifer denied it until he was thrown into the cage."

There were several seconds of silence before Dean spoke up, "So, what was her name? You and Gabriel seemed to both know her pretty well."

Castiel shifted and started down at his beer in thought. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to reveal about his past. If he explained too much, it would reveal one of the few things he felt a deep sense of guilt and regret about, and he wasn't ready to face that yet.

"Her name was Azrial. She was the fourth archangel created after Michael, Lucifer and Gabriel."

"Azrael? You mean the angel of death? I thought he was a myth, and you know, a dude."

Sam's question had Castiel laughing despite himself. Really, there were times he was sure his sister would be overly amused at how humans had skewed her image. She was never portrayed as an archangel, and it was rare that she was ever portrayed as a woman. 

"Azrial," he corrected the pronunciation and he could see Sam mouthing the name to make sure he got it right, "and her title was the Angel of Death. She served as Death's right hand and her purpose was to obey him above all else. Beyond that, she was the Lieutenant of Heaven's army."

"Hefty title. How'd she die if she was all that?"

Dean's casual question had Sam snapping at his brother, "Dean! You can't just-"

"It's fine, Sam. It's been a long time."

Sam gave him a strange look but nodded before settling in to listen to the rest of the explanation.

"Michael and Lucifer had been fighting violently. When the fight ended Michael found that his spear was missing. His spear wasn't a normal weapon. It had the ability to destroy an angel, or even an archangel, piece by piece. It would rot you from the inside out until there was nothing left."

Castiel's voice wavered slightly but he did his best to push away the mental images that always creeped up when he thought about what had happened to his sister.

"That's freaking sadistic."

Dean's disgust was clear in his voice, and Castiel nodded in agreement.

"It was, but it was meant as the ultimate punishment. Never a weapon he'd carry into battle. So when he found it was missing, he suspected Lucifer. That the fight he'd had that day was nothing more than a distraction to gain the spear."

Castiel was silent for a few moments and Sam spoke up softly, "Lucifer killed her, didn't he? With the spear."

"From what we can figure, yes. Raphael reported finding the spear near her. She was dying and Raphael was there when she took her final breath before burning out completely. She didn't know who'd stabbed her because her back was turned. To Michael though, the answer was obvious. He went after Lucifer that same day, and that was the day Lucifer was locked away in the cage."

Sam and Dean were silent after he finished his explanation, and Castiel found himself doing his best to push down the bile in his throat. He remembered the eldest archangel's reaction clearly. The transition from shock as Raphael presented him with his spear, to pain upon hearing of his sister's death, before an all-encompassing fury overtook him. He also remembered Lucifer's face upon hearing the news of Azrial's death. It was something that would haunt him forever. The archangel had seemed unrepentant in his actions until Michael had accused him of Sororicide. Lucifer had vehemently denied it. He'd gone to the cage proclaiming his innocence of the act all while Michael belittled him and told him to at least own up to his actions. It was a day that still haunted many angels in Heaven. Some considered that the moment Michael had become fanatical in his obedience of their Father. Castiel couldn't help but agree with those angels. 

"So just to clarify something," Dean's question broke Castiel from his thoughts, and he nodded to show he was listening. "Gabriel accused you of being disloyal. He wasn't referring to helping us, was he?"

"No. No he wasn't. Perhaps he also meant that, but his issue is with me serving Michael."

"Why though? I thought you'd always served Michael."

Castiel shook his head making Dean frown. He didn't want to go much deeper into this topic so best to be honest and clear about this so he could put it to rest. 

"No. I started serving Michael a few hundred years after Azrial's death. It was that or join with Raphael. I chose Michael because he commanded his flocks in a similar fashion to what I was used to."

"So the traitor accusation was bull. You did what you had to survive, period."

Dean's voice carried a steel edge and heavy confidence. Castiel's lips twitched at the declaration and he tilted his head in agreement with the hunter. He was glad Dean understood, and when he saw Sam nodding in agreement with his brother Castiel felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. He hadn't realized how much that choice had weighed on him until Gabriel had accused him of betraying Azrial with his actions. To have the Winchesters agreeing with him had a warm feeling settling into his chest.

"So," Sam cut into the conversation, "what now?"

Dean scowled and finished off his beer. "Now? We catch some shut eye, get on the road, and prepare to go crawling back to one smug ass demon who will likely stab us in the back before this is all over."

Sam sighed and fell onto his back glaring at the ceiling, "Great. Just another day at the office."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I didn't plan for this to go up today but I miscalculated on my posting schedule. Now, expect a chapter every Saturday. I'll see you lovely people next week!


	3. Russian Roulette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No CW/TW for this chapter. Enjoy, and see you next Saturday!

_December 2, 2009_

Crowley sat at his desk drumming his fingers against the solid surface in thought. Of all the things he’d expected when Lucifer rose, radio silence wasn’t one of them. He was about to get up when his cell phone rang and when his eyes fell to the caller ID, he raised an eyebrow before picking it up.

“Decided calling me was worth the effort?”

There was an annoyed huff at the other end of the phone, and Crowley couldn’t help but smirk at the venom dripping off the voice on the other end.

“Your life's on the line too, remember that. We want to take you up on your offer.”

Sam Winchester’s voice was a perfect mix of annoyance, trepidation, and subtle threat. Really, the younger Winchester would fit in perfectly with any demons considering how layered he could make his every word.

“Lovely, but it isn’t that simple, Moose.”

“What the hell do you mean it isn’t that simple? You said-”

“And I will keep my word. Now stand down and _listen_.”

The sharp tone of his voice when he cut the hunter off seemed to register with the hot-headed man. After several moments of silence, Crowley continued.

“You need to understand what _I’m_ risking by making this introduction, Moose. This isn’t a goodwill trade.”

“We aren’t selling our souls to you, bastard.”

Crowley scoffed and relaxed into his desk chair frowning heavily. 

“I don’t want your souls. They’re a useless commodity given the situation. I want your word that when this is over you’ll stay the hell out of my way.”

There were several long seconds of silence on the other side of the phone before there was frantic, but muffled, talking. Crowley waited patiently and the voice that spoke next was Dean Winchester’s perpetually gruff drawl.

“What the hell do you mean by staying out of your way, Crowley?”

“I have irons in the fire for when Lucifer is dealt with, Squirrel. I want your word that you two lumbering piles of flannel won’t purposefully come after me once this mess is cleaned up.”

“You’re that confident about your ability to clean it up?”

This disbelief in Dean’s voice made Crowley snort and he drawled back, “Me? No. I’m not stupid or powerful enough to go toe to toe with Lucifer.”

“So what good are you?”

The question was snapped by Sam, and Crowley frowned at the hostile tone. He shouldn’t be surprised about the hostility after what Ruby had done to the boy, but he didn’t appreciate Sam’s attitude. 

“My contact has a way we could beat that tantrum-throwing child, but you have to pay the price.”

“The price being we leave you the hell alone.”

“Exactly.”

The silence was deafening once more but finally, Dean spoke up. His voice was laced with reluctance, “Fine. Now, who’s this contact?”

“First, some ground rules.”

“That wasn’t the damn-”

“Watch your tone, Squirrel, or I’ll leave you to take your chances.”

Crowley didn’t bother to keep the annoyance out of his voice at the firm reprimand. As it was, he was reluctant to introduce the two temperamental hunters, and by extension, their pet angel, to his contact. He’d rather keep her a secret, but given the current climate, it was time to change tack.

“I’m going to make this abundantly clear to you morons, so listen carefully. I’d rather leave you to burn then team up with you but as you know, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. At least for now.” 

There were more than a few muttered expletives that were incomprehensible over the sound of a car driving down an open highway. Crowley decided he was safe to continue on when the Winchester’s didn’t say anything more. 

“Rule number one is quite simple and I’m sure one the both of you have run into before: don’t ask questions that aren’t relevant to the situation at hand. Understood?”

He didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding in regards to this situation and decided to drop his teasing of the two hunters completely. 

“Fine.”

Sam’s dry one-word answer had the demon continuing, “Rule number two is specifically for you Dean Winchester. I want you on your best damn behavior.”

There was a loud screeching of tires and cursing from what sounded like a startled Sam Winchester before Dean’s voice snapped, “The hell do you mean by that?”

The offended tone was dripping off every ground out word and Crowley snorted as he responded cooly. 

“I mean that you have a habit of putting your foot in it. This time it could cost your life so I suggest you watch yourself.” 

“You’re a fucking ba-”

“What else?”

Sam cut off his brother before the older hunter could launch into a rant and Crowley plowed on wanting to get done with this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Three, you will meet my contact unarmed. It wouldn’t do you much good anyway.”

“How do we know your contact won’t kill us?”

Sam’s question carried more skepticism than the entire conversation so far. Crowley sighed in aggravation as he responded, “You’ll have to take my word for it. If it makes you feel better, bring that pet angel of yours. He could bail you out in moments without any need for a weapon.” 

When silence greeted his suggestion, Crowley decided to quickly push on to the last rule.

“The final rule is a simple one, boys. If you break any of the rules I’ve outlined and piss my contact off, it’s on you. I will end our agreement immediately and you’ll be on your own to figure out how to deal with Lucifer.”

“You’ll turn on us?”

Crowley had never heard such a potent mix of disbelief and fury in one human voice and found himself reluctantly impressed with Dean Winchester’s ability to express his displeasure. 

“If that’s how you choose to see it, yes. I’ll simply be siding with an ally I’ve had far longer than I’ve known you, perhaps even longer than dear Samuel has been alive.”

“You’ll let the world burn for some stupid contact?”

“Yes.”

His single word no-nonsense answer seemed to bring the Winchester’s up short. For a moment, Crowley wondered if the hunters had hung up on him. He was about to put the phone down himself when Dean asked tightly, “Where are we going?”

“Bellevue, Washington. My contact lives near Newport Shores.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Dean sounded utterly annoyed and Crowley scrunched his brow as he frowned in response to the increased hostility, “Is there a problem?”

“That’s clear on the other side of the freakin country.”

“Where are you?”

“Not that it’s any of your damn business, but we’re in Ohio.”

Crowley mulled over the situation. It would take those idiots three days if not longer to get to Bellevue. With everything going on, time wasn’t something they had a lot of. 

“I could get you a flight from Ohio to Washington. We’re under a rather strict time constraint after all, and the sooner we deal with this, the sooner I can get underground.”

“I’m not freaking flying in a plane with tickets given to me by a damn demon. Do I look stupid to you?”

“You really don’t want me to answer that, Squirrel.” 

Crowley couldn’t help the slip. Really, you’d think the hunter would be more grateful for the offer. Did this idiot really want to drive through the bloody Rockies in the winter?

“Dean, maybe we should take him up on the offer. Remember the last time we tried to pass the Rocky Mountains in winter? That and the forecast said there was a major snowstorm about to come down from Canada.”

“Perhaps you should listen to your brother, Dean. I really don’t have the time for you to get stranded in the mountains.”

Crowley didn’t bother to keep the annoyance out of his voice. There was an annoyed huff and he could hear the phone being set down as an argument ensued between the two brothers. Crowley rolled his eyes and pulled his cellphone away from his ear as the two argued. He found himself sending a text to his contact that he’d be coming by in the next few days. Several moments after it was sent, a response came as the octave of yelling increased on the other side of the phone. 

_Finally decided to come see lil ole me? Should I be honored or afraid?_

Crowley snorted and he could hear the sarcasm dripping off the text. He quickly typed out a response as a third voice joined the argument the hunters were having. He really wasn’t paying attention to what was being said at this point.

_Honored of course. I’m assuming you still have a bottle of my scotch?_

The response came moments later just as there was a shout of “Fine!” from the phone. 

_I’ve had a bottle at my wet bar these past three years. See you in a few days, Crowley._

Before Crowley could contemplate the response to his question Sam’s voice came clear over the phone, “Hey, Crowley?”

“You two finally sort it out?”

His question was met with two huffs from the hunters and a soft sigh that he was pretty sure belonged to the boys’ pet angel. 

“I’m going to take you up on that flight offer. Can you get me a flight out of Sioux Falls or nearby?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow at Sam’s relatively polite question but hummed softly, “I can. Your brother isn’t joining you?”

“No. He’s being a stubborn ass. He’ll meet me there, but at least this way I’ll be local if his dumbass gets stuck in the snow.”

There was mild cursing and Crowley smirked at the annoyance dripping off Sam’s voice. 

“That’s a small airport. There will likely be a connection.”

“Don’t care. At least I won’t be driving through a freaking blizzard.”

Crowley chuckled and drummed his fingers against the desk, “Very well. I’ll book you a flight and send the relevant details. Tell that brother of yours he better be in Bellevue in five days’ time, or else our deal is off.”

“Fine. See you then.”

The phone cut off, and Crowley hung up as well. He frowned as he saw another text message and opened it.

_Be careful making your way here. Demon activity has been higher than normal lately._

He sighed and flipped the phone shut. Of course, it wouldn’t be as simple as appearing in Washington. There were several contracts he could finish off on the west coast without making his movements overt. It seemed he’d need those five days as well. 

**Line Break**

Bobby looked up from his book at the familiar sound of a Chevy engine coming up his driveway. He set down the book, stood up, and made his way to the front door. He was almost there when he heard three doors shut, and an argument began between Sam and Dean. He sighed and opened the door to see the brothers walking side by side, bitching at each other. Castiel trailed behind them looking a touch amused at whatever it was the two were arguing about.

“‘Bout time ya idjits made your way here.”

“Not our fault. We got thrown into some stupid alternate reality by a freaking archangel pretending to be a Trickster.”

“Scuse me?”

Bobby couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice at Dean’s whined statement. Sam sighed but smiled in greeting as they made their way inside. Castiel remained silent but he noted that some of the tension in the angel’s shoulders melted away as they entered the house. 

“Eh, it’s a long story, Bobby. Truth is, we’re only passing through. We wanted to get you up to date on everything that’s happened before heading out again. I’ve actually got a flight to catch in the morning.”

Sam’s voice drifted back from the living room as he shut the door behind the three of them. Bobby frowned as he walked back into the house in time to see Dean fall onto his couch with a tired sigh.

“Flight? How in the name of God did you convince your brother to get on a plane?”

Sam huffed and Dean glared half-heartedly at his brother. Castiel rolled his eyes and turned his gaze heavenward as if he was looking for some form of divine intervention. 

“I didn’t. This idiot thinks driving through the freaky Rockies was the better way to go. I learned from the last time.”

“We’ve gotten stuck once, bitch. Stop acting like it’s the end of the world.”

“Dean, it was -15 and it took us eight fucking hours to get moving. You couldn’t pay me to do that again.” 

Dean opened his mouth, likely to argue that the situation hadn’t been that bad, but Bobby cut him off.

“Where ya heading to?”

“Bellevue, Washington. We decided that Crowley was our best option especially after our run in with Gabriel.”

Sam’s casual statement had Bobby pinching the bridge of his nose. He loved these boys but sometimes they got into the stupidest situations and didn’t realize how outlandish their stories sounded to an outside observer. 

“Alright, back the hell up. You met the _Archangel_ Gabriel, who for reasons I can’t even begin to guess was green lighting as a freaking Trickster?” 

Dean hummed in agreement from his place on the couch with his head tilted back. He already looked half asleep and Bobby wondered how fast the boy had been going to get here. Castiel was eyeing the hunter with thinly veiled concern which told its own story. Dean had likely been going far past the legal speed limit to get here, and was exhausted from what had transpired in Ohio.

“He and Cas kinda went at it. He had refused from the gate to help us so Cas ripped him a new asshole. Honestly Bobby, you’d be so proud. Sauntered in there like a damn Winchester, and started tearing strips off someone who could kill ‘em with a snap of his fingers.”

Dean sounded a mix between giddy and overly proud of the angel and Bobby raised an eyebrow at Castiel. The angel looked embarrassed and turned away from the questioning look. Leave it to Dean to be impressed by charging into a situation without care about the consequences because someone deserved to be chewed out. Bobby sighed and sat at his desk just as Sam fell down next to his brother. Castiel sat in the chair closest to Dean as Bobby ran his hand over his face before speaking.

“Alright, story from the top.”

Sam started to explain what happened with Dean interjecting every once in a while. Bobby frowned when Sam had brought up the archangel threatening Castiel, but put it aside for now. As the story came to a close, Dean was dozing lightly, his head leaning against his brother’s shoulder. They must not have rested long at the motel, and from the way it sounded they were in that alternate reality for several days. Dean would need at least eight hours of rest to recoup from that before hitting the road if they were going cross country. 

“So, Castiel is going to take the ride with Dean?”

“Yeah. At the end of the day it is best for one of us to be on site before meeting up with Crowley.”

Sam kept his voice quiet so he wouldn’t disturb Dean. Bobby hummed in response as he pulled out his contact book. Call him paranoid, but he was starting to wonder if it was time to call in his big gun. He didn’t want his boys anywhere near a crossroads demon with delusions of grandeur who seemed to actually have more than a pinch of common sense and a disgusting amount of cunning. Still, their reasoning was sound. They were running out of time to deal with this problem and there were no solutions in sight.

“Ya better get some rest. If Dean is still asleep in the morning I’ll drop ya at the airport.” 

Sam yawned and nodded as he gently shoved Dean off him. His brother gave a soft grunt but otherwise didn’t make a sound as he readjusted himself to lie on the couch. Sam grabbed a pillow and blanket before placing it out on the floor, and within moments of lying down was sound asleep. Castiel stood up to move out of the room but Bobby stopped him.

“So, ya went off on your older brother.”

Castiel looked uncomfortable at the direct question but nodded.

“I did. I didn’t say anything I didn’t feel was true.”

“Ya should be more careful. Dean had a point; your brother coulda killed ya.”

Castiel looked away and shrugged his shoulders slightly. It was a behavior he’d seen Dean do more than once. Bobby wondered how many of the boys’ mannerisms Castiel had picked up from being with them on a near constant basis. Lashing out at Gabriel was a prime example of something the angel never would have done prior to meeting the Winchesters. Castiel had been the pinnacle of an obedient soldier when Bobby had first met him. Each time he saw the angel after that though, the more human he seemed to become. It was subtle changes, but not seeing him anywhere near as often as the boys meant Bobby was able to pick up on it more readily than they would. He’d become this strange mixture of human and angelic that left Bobby wondering how to treat him. He’d finally decided to treat him as he would Sam and Dean, and the first time he’d tore into all three of them for their idiocy, the angel had looked as abashed as the boys. There was more though, he swore he’d seen the slightest hint of happiness at being treated the same as Sam and Dean. 

“Gabriel had it coming. If my sister were alive I’m sure she’d have said far worse.”

The reminiscent statement took Bobby by surprise but he didn’t show it. Instead he hummed in acknowledgment.

“Perhaps ya were just channeling her from the grave then. Just remember that you aren't the biggest fish in the pond, Castiel. The boys need ya, and getting killed leaves ya no help to them.” 

“I know. I should have backed down when Gabriel lost his temper but he just-”

The angel trailed off with an aggravated sigh and Bobby gave him a searching look. There was still no tension in Castiel’s shoulders but he looked aggravated and on edge. This situation with Gabriel had affected him far more than it had Sam or Dean, and he doubted that the angel had discussed just how much it had with either of them. 

“He got under your skin. Nothing wrong with that. Just be careful how ya handle situations like that. No one wants to see ya broken and bloody.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you Bobby.”

The sincerity in the angel’s statement had Bobby turning back to his book with a huff.

“Don’t mention it. Ya should get some rest too. Ya look a little haggard from your encounter.” 

The angel tilted his head in curiosity and looked over at Sam and Dean who were now sound asleep. He stood up for a moment and took his jacket off before sitting back in the chair. It was a bit humorous to see the angel squirm trying to get comfortable in the chair with his jacket draped over him like a makeshift blanket. Bobby took pity on him and stood up grabbing a spare pillow and handing it to the angel. Castiel grabbed it looking at it strangely for a few moments before placing it at the side of his head and resting against it.

“Angels really can’t sleep?”

Bobby asked the question as he sat back at his desk. Castiel hummed, shutting his eyes.

“Not really. We will sleep when gravely injured to recoup our grace if in a vessel. We can also sleep if we choose to but it takes focus and is normally only a light doze at best.”

“Well, ya better focus then. Dean is a taskmaster when he gets on the road, and you’re gonna have to make him take breaks since Sam won’t be there.”

Castiel snorted but seemed to relax further into the chair. Within moments all three boys were breathing steadily. Bobby quickly flipped through his contact book, not that he had to search far, before he found the name he was looking for. He quickly dialed the number and it rang for a few moments before a smooth deep voice answered.

“This is Rowen Anderson, if you’re calling for an exorcist please know I retired years ago. If you’re calling about the Orphanage, I’m more than happy to talk with you.”

“There ain’t no retirement in the Vatican's eyes, Anderson. We both know that.”

Bobby’s statement caused a sharp inhale from the man on the other end of the phone.

“Robert Singer. Long time. What can I do for you?”

That had to be one of the things he liked about the Vatican backed exorcist; man was polite to a fault to those who’d earned his respect. Didn’t hurt that they were only a year apart in age. They shared a similar outlook on life because of that and it meant it wasn’t a chore to talk to the man unlike most hunters. 

“I’m having a bit of a unique problem, and I could use some of your occult knowledge to help solve it.”

There was a small hum and he could hear the man relaxing back into his chair. He was likely still in his office despite the late hour. 

“Drop the pretense, Bobby. Every hunter knows that the Winchesters cracked the lid on the apocalypse.”

Bobby froze at the accusation, and he went to refute it when the exorcist sighed.

“It ain’t their fault, of course. When Heaven and Hell decide to agree, there really isn’t much we can do against their machinations, is there?”

The tension that had settled into his shoulders suddenly had nowhere to go, and Bobby huffed.

“You’re a dick sometimes, ya know that? To answer your question, we can fight like Hell against it.”

The man chuckled, “Of course. I personally like the world spinning. How are your boys doing, Bobby? Have there been any idiots who’ve come after them?”

“No. They would have said something.”

“Good. That’s good. Now what type of knowledge do you need?”

“A way to kill an archangel.”

There was radio silence on the other side of the phone for several seconds before Rowen let out an aggravated sigh.

“Why is it you can’t ever call and just ask me over for a beer, Bobby?”

“Cause ya don’t drink like the rest of us do, and ya live almost ten hours away.”

“Still! You call and ask for something I’m not even sure the fucking Vatican has knowledge of.”

Bobby rolled his eyes at the aggravation in his friend's voice. He knew the man would actually look forward to the challenge but he’d bitch about it long and hard before he admitted it. 

“Ya done?”

“No. Answer me this, which archangel are trying to kill?”

“In theory? Lucifer. In practice? I’d happily wipe out Michael too.”

Rowen gave a thoughtful hum and he could hear the sound of fingers thrumming against wood. After a moment he spoke up, “Can you pick me up at the airport in two days time?”

“Scuse me?”

“This isn’t something we should discuss over the phone, Bobby. I need to dig up some books but I’d rather have this talk behind your wards. We can go over the lore together.”

“Fine. The boys will be back on the road by then so the couch will be free.”

“You wouldn’t clear out the guest bedroom for me? My back isn’t what it used to be.”

There was a small pout in the man’s voice and Bobby rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t even do that for the boys, and you think I’d do it for you?”

“Ah, it was worth a try. I’ll book the flight and send you the details. See you in a few days, Bobby.”

“Thanks, Rowen.”

He made sure the man heard the sincerity in his voice, and there was a soft hum before the line went dead. Bobby hung up the phone and with a sigh stood up and shut off his desk lamp. With one last glance at the three men sleeping in his living room, he allowed a small smile to grace his lips as he headed up to his room. 


	4. Go Your Own Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Implied Sexual Content mid-way through the chapter.

_December 3, 2009_

The next day was a blur of activity. Bobby ended up taking Sam to the airport because Dean was still passed out, and neither wanted to wake the man when he was facing a 48 hour drive. Castiel had stayed with him just in case he woke up while they were gone. 

Bobby got out as Sam grabbed his backpack. He knew the hunter was feeling a bit naked without a weapon but there wasn’t much of a choice with how strict security was at the airport. Sam did have a few talismans and some holy water but beyond that, the young man was going in exactly how Crowley had wanted him to, weaponless. Bobby swore if there was a single hair out of place he’d kill the demon. 

He gave Sam a stern look, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t Bobby. I’m going to lay low until Dean arrives. Remind him to put in the emergency shovel in the car, please? I think he took it out last time we were here.”

Bobby nodded at Sam’s question, as the young man shouldered his bag. For a moment, Bobby remembered the last time he’d seen Sam like this. He’d stopped on his way out to Stanford dressed the same way. He’d been proud of the kid despite being sad to see him go. Now though, Sam was singularly focused on stopping two archangels on war from turning their planet into a burning rock.

“Stay safe, and call me when you arrive.”

“Will do. Thanks, Bobby, for everything.”

The thank you was a bit awkward, but Sam quickly leaned forward giving him a hug. Bobby hugged him back before Sam pulled away with a small smile and headed into the airport. Bobby got back in his truck and began the trip home trying not to think about the fact the world was burning around them, and that he’d have to brave traffic and come back out here in two days’ time.

When Sam landed in Seattle, the first thing he realized was that he had nowhere to stay. He huffed in aggravation and turned his phone off airplane mode as he began to make his way over the airport cafe to look up a hotel when his phone rang. He didn’t even bother to look at the caller ID before answering, “Hello?”

“Ah, so you made it.”

Sam frowned at the smooth British accent and couldn’t help the bubble of aggravation that filled him. He was grateful for the flight, but he still couldn’t stand the fact that they were working with Crowley.

“I did. Is there a reason you’re calling me?”

“There is, actually. I wanted to let you know I’ve already booked a hotel for you and your brother. 99 Union Street, the Four Seasons. If I recall, there is a shuttle from the airport.”

“Uh, okay. Thanks, but why are you doing all this?”

The demon’s chuckle set him on edge, and Sam was about to snap at Crowley when the demon responded civilly.

“This is business, Moose. Truthfully, it's a matter of convenience for you to be so close to where my contact lives. Don’t overthink it.” 

“If you say so.”

“I do. I’ll be there in four days.”

With that the phone cut off and Sam huffed and made his way out onto the street. He saw a private car with the hotel’s name and warily made his way over to the man standing there. The chauffeur smiled warmly.

“Hello, Sir. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Uh, yeah, I think I may be wrong, but is this the service to the Four Seasons?”

Sam suddenly had the sickening feeling Crowley may be fucking with him. The chauffeur nodded and grabbed a clipboard.

“Name?”

“Sam Winchester.”

“Ah, yes. You have a reservation for the next week. Right this way.”

The man opened the door and Sam found himself staring, but he quickly got in with his backpack. The door was shut and the chauffeur got in the driver’s seat and they started moving. Somehow he wished Crowley had left him to his own devices. This felt like the world’s most polite power move, and Sam really didn’t feel comfortable with it. He didn’t want to feel anymore indebted to the demon then they were already getting. Still, there wasn’t much he could do now.

“Are you here for business or pleasure, Mr. Winchester?”

Sam blinked at the honorific, and it took him a few moments to realize he was being asked a question.

“Business, though my meeting isn’t for a few days. Also, Sam is fine. Mr. Winchester has me looking around for my father.”

“Well, if you like coffee houses, I have a few recommendations. Are you a vegetarian by chance? A new restaurant has opened in town.”

Sam tilted his head in curiosity and despite himself, he asked, “Sounds interesting, what places would you recommend?”

The man began shooting off places with a clear passion. Sam quickly pulled out a notebook and pen and started writing the names down, and interjecting a few questions here and there. Perhaps this week wouldn’t be too bad after all.

**Line Break**

“So, ya got everything?”

Bobby asked the question as Dean dropped his bag into the backseat of the Impala. Castiel was going over the weapons in the trunk with a sharp eye under Dean’s instruction. The hunter grinned.

“Yea. I don’t know what Sam was worried about. The news is saying the storm deviated so we should arrive earlier than expected.” 

“Uh-huh. Well, be careful.”

“When am I not?”

“Every time I let you out of the damn house.”

He’d muttered the response, but Dean had heard and laughed as he scratched the back of his head. Castiel walked over after shutting the trunk with more care than was needed. Seemed the angel had gotten chewed out about slamming the trunk at one point, Bobby thought in amusement. 

“You’ll look after him, Castiel?”

“Of course.”

He’d asked the question as a joke but the angel’s response was anything but and Bobby couldn’t help but feel grateful that Sam and Dean had someone looking out for them. 

“Well, ya better head out then. Let me know when you arrive.”

“Will do, Bobby. See ya in a few days.”

Dean slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. Castiel was about to walk around the car and get in when Bobby called out, “Remember what I said, boy. You aren’t always the biggest fish.”

There was a flash of appreciation in the angel’s eyes and Castiel gave a small nod as he got into the car. There was a deafening blare of rock music as Dean pulled out of the driveway and Bobby shook his head, watching the car disappear in the distance.

Some things never changed even when the world was burning.

Sam found himself staring at his hotel room in a sense of detached shock. It was official; Crowley was mentally fucking with them behind a guise of polite business. 

The hotel room was larger, and fancier, than any Sam had been in. It leaned more toward being a suite, having a seating area and a small kitchenette with the bedroom being a seperate room. There was only one bed, but the way Crowley had worded it there were actually two rooms so that made some sense. Not like Castiel needed sleep so Dean would be bunking alone for the first time in a while. He set his bag on the bed and flipped the TV on so it wouldn’t be so quiet in the room as he began to settle in. If he’d been paying more attention, he would have heard that the snowstorm coming down from Canada was not only still coming, but it veered eastward with a vengeance. Perhaps had he heard, he could have told Dean to go south first rather than straight via I-90. Sadly for Dean, Sam was far too focused on finding a few hunters’ spots to pick up more holy water, and then hopefully hit up that restaurant.

**Line Break**

_December 4, 2009_

Dean was pissed.

The drive had started out great. Castiel didn’t bitch about his music like Sam did, even if his brother did it mostly for his own amusement. Castiel had even asked if they could stop for burgers. After getting over his shock at the question asked around eight hours after getting on the road, he had happily pulled over. Castiel hadn’t hesitated as he bit into the burger, and Dean couldn’t help but feel some level of amusement at such a simple action. The angel had avoided soda still, stating it tasted strange, and after that they had gotten back on the road. With that though, they had passed into Montanna and right into a wall of white.

“This is insane.”

Dean growled the words as he sat in bumper to bumper traffic on I-90 in the middle of what had to be one of the worst snowstorms in the past few years. Castiel tilted his head as he watched as more people chose to pull off at each exit with a strange look in his eyes.

“Perhaps we should stop for the night. The storm may pass.”

“No. We have a deadline, and if the storm doesn’t let up we may loose more hours then we could make up. I have an idea though.”

Dean turned off at the next exit and into a gas station to fuel up. As soon as that was done, he grabbed his map and looked down at it critically. His gaze shifted to Castiel for a moment who was looking out the window at a family of four. The mother was putting a hat on her toddler and being generally doting. The father was cradling another toddler, and it was clear by the look on his face that he was amused with his wife’s antics. With the snow fluttering around them it looked like something off of a Hallmark card.

A perfect little family.

“Something up, Cas?”

The angel seemed to snap out of a trance, and turned his attention back to him.

“No. I was just lost in thought.”

“Uhuh, if you say so. Alright, the new plan is to take a few back roads to get around the backlog on the interstate. We’ll hop back on in around 20 miles.”

Castiel looked at the map, but it was clear to Dean he didn’t really understand what he was being shown.

“Is that wise? Won’t unfrequented roads be worse?”

“Maybe a little, but sitting bumper to bumper is getting us nowhere.”

“Well, if you think it’s safe then I’ll defer to you.”

Dean hesitated for a moment but nodded at Castiel as he shoved the map in the back seat and they were on their way once more.

**Line Break**

_December 5, 2009_

Looking back, going up back roads hadn’t been the best idea. He’d thought they had enough time to get in front of the storm if they were quick, but instead they had run right into the worst of it. Now, they were stuck on the side of the road because the snow had reached a point where even he didn’t feel confident driving through it. Thankfully the engine was still running so he wasn’t freezing. Yet.

“Today sucks.”

Dean muttered the statement as he picked at a bag of chips he’d grabbed from the gas station. He hated that Sam had been right, and even more hated that Crowley would likely rub his face in it when they finally arrived in Bellevue. Castiel had been silent since he’d pulled off. His face was thoughtful and Dean wondered what had the angel so deep in thought. He munched on a few chips when Castiel’s voice suddenly broke the silence.

“They were a nice family, weren’t they?”

Dean blinked in confusion, not sure how to respond.

“Uh, what family?”

“The one at the gas station. They seemed,” Castiel tilted his head in thought, “nice.”

Dean found himself at a loss for words. There was a strange tone in the angel’s voice that he couldn’t quite place. It almost sounded like longing, but why would that be? 

“Well, I guess if you like kids. Or that whole apple pie white picket fence life.”

Dean knew his voice conveyed annoyance at the topic, but he didn’t have many good feelings about traditional families. What few memories he had of his mom and dad together before mom died weren’t always happy. He knew better than anyone that appearances could be nothing more than a pretty lie. 

“Dean, what’s it like to have a mother?”

The question brought Dean to a full halt and he found himself staring at the angel who hadn’t moved his gaze from watching the snow falling outside. He could see the serious set of Castiel’s face in the reflection of the window, and it killed the sarcastic comment that was ready to shoot out of his mouth. Instead he took a steadying breath and thought through his answer.

“Where’s this coming from, Cas?”

The angel tilted his head, and then turned to look at him with a searching gaze.

“That family seemed happy. I’m just wondering what it’s like. To have that.”

Dean felt his mouth go dry at the blunt statements. He didn’t like to think too hard on what it was like to be an angel. Seeing Castiel and Gabriel go at each other had brought up feelings he’d rather not acknowledge.

Mostly that the angels were, at the end of the day, just an overpowered and overly dysfunctional family. 

Castiel’s words further pushed that perspective into his mind, and Dean couldn’t help but try and level with him even though he’d rather not think heavily on his own past.

“Looks can be deceiving, Cas.”

“I felt it.”

Dean’s brow creased as he processed what Castiel said.

“Wait, you’re telling me you could _feel_ that they were happy?”

“In a sense. I could feel the love they had for each other.”

Dean had nothing to say to that. He hadn’t realized that was something angel’s could do. Dean opened his mouth to ask something, but Castiel cut him off.

“Being around you, Sam, and Bobby sometimes deafens it for me. The three of you love each other deeply and you’re so devoted because of it. It used to be like that for us. There was a time when we weren’t fighting. When we weren’t _killing_ each other.”

Bitterness had crept into Castiel’s voice, and Dean found himself shifting so he could fully look at the angel. He was staring down at his hands and looked as if he didn’t really understand why he was here. Dean bit his lip and decided to pull his friend off a topic he knew would drag him down into a depressive hole.

“My mom, well she was the light of our lives.”

The admission seemed to startle the angel and Castiel looked up at him curiously. Dean looked away and watched the snow fluttering down around them instead.

“She put up with a lot, Cas. My dad was far from perfect even before he started hunting. Still, she loved him and he loved her. When she died, it tore him apart.”

“I see.”

The two words were uttered in a thoughtful tone, and the subject seemed to rest after that. Dean leaned against the window and did his best to make himself comfortable. 

“Do me a favor? Wake me up when the snow slows down or the battery dies? Whichever happens first.”

“Of course.”

Dean hummed at Castiel’s serious response, and shut his eyes. He did his best to push aside thoughts of his mother and focused on trying to get some rest while he could. They were only seven hours out from Bellevue, and with any luck the storm let up they could make it in six.

**Line Break**

_December 6th, 2009_

It was rare that Dean wanted to cry in relief when he got out of his car, but this was one of the few times he was happy to park. As he walked into the hotel though he found the discomfort rising once more. This place was way nicer than what he was used to, and he wondered what the hell Crowley was playing at by getting them rooms here. He slowly walked up to the counter, and was happy that the woman didn’t look down at him despite his disheveled appearance.

Small miracles.

“Uh, hey. I was told reservations were made for my friend and I?”

“May I have your name?”

Dean hesitated for a moment and shot Castiel a look. The angel gave a small shrug as he looked around the lobby curiously. 

“Dean Winchester.”

The woman looked through her computer and then smiled as she seemed to find what she’s looking for.

“Yes, you’ve been given a lovely room facing the bay. It’s all expenses paid minus the mini-bar in the room. Your meals here in the hotel, as well as drinks at the restaurant bar, are covered, though.”

Dean blinked a few times trying to comprehend what had been said. Seriously, what the hell was Crowley playing at?

“Oh, uh, cool.”

He really had no idea what else to say as the key cards were slid over to him by the smiling woman.

“Check out is in four days before 11 in the morning. Also, congratulations! You really make a lovely couple.”

Dean stared for several long moments at the woman trying to comprehend what she’d said. Castiel’s attention was now on the woman as well his head tilted looking at her.

“Dean, what does-?”

“Nothing! Let’s go see Sammy before we settle in!”

Dean dragged the angel away as soon as the words sunk in, and he did his damn best to ignore the smile and wave from the woman as they headed for the elevator.

“Dean, what did she mean?”

“Nothing. Just, nothing.”

As the elevator dinged Dean entered it quickly and Castiel followed dutifully. Dean sighed as he saw the knowing smile from the desk attendant and cursed Crowley right back to the depths of Hell. 

“That demonic asshole is going to get it.”

He snarled the statement softly and Castiel scrunched his brow in confusion.

“Did Crowley do something?”

“Yeah. Bastard told the hotel you and I just got married.”

The annoyance dripped off every word as the elevator continued its trip up to the 10th floor. Dean just wanted to go the hell to sleep at this point, and when Crowley finally showed up he was going to deck the smug demon. 

“And that irritates you?”

Castiel’s question held an innocent curiosity that took Dean by surprise. He gave his friend a searching look to see if the angel was messing with him, but he just stared back waiting for a response. 

“It ain’t true, and now the staff are gonna treat us like newlyweds.”

“Oh, I hadn’t realized newlyweds were treated differently than others.”

Dean stepped out of the elevator as it came to a stop, and did his best to ignore the multitude of questions that seemed laced through the angel’s admission. He really had no desire to explain how people would coo over new couples to the same extent they would new babies. He looked at his phone to check the room number Sam had sent him and was happy to see it was only a few doors down from him. He walked up to the room and knocked loudly. At first there was no response, but then there was the distinct sound of female laughter and Dean found himself double checking if he had the right room. The door swung open and Dean started dumbfounded for the second time in several minutes. His brother’s hair was a complete mess, and there was a slick coat of sweat covering his face and chest. A towel had been hastily pulled around his waist and his brother was gripping it tightly. 

“Oh. Dean. You made it.”

His brother’s winded voice had Dean’s mind snapping into action, and he scowled slightly at his brother.

“The hell, Sammy? I could have been dead in a blizzard and you’re having sex with some random woman?”

“Two women, and not random. I’ve had coffee with them several times. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Sam went to shut the door but Dean snapped.

“Wow, WOW. Two? Mr. Prim and Proper is having a threesome?”

“Yes. With identical twins. Now go away.”

With that the door was slammed shut and Dean was left staring at the door mouthing soundlessly at his brother’s blunt statement. He was pissed that Sam had slammed the door shut, but he couldn’t help the swell of pride at his brother doing something that he would have pulled if given the chance.

“Dean, are you crying?”

“What? No! Let’s go Cass.”

He could talk to Sammy later. He wanted to take a nap before Crowley showed up to drag them off to wherever his contact was stashed. He was barely awake when he stumbled into his room, and the only thing that stopped him from falling into the welcoming bed was the scattering of rose petals and a bottle of wine next to a box of chocolates with a note on it. 

He walked up to the bed after dropping his bag near one of the chairs and picked up the note. Dean glared hatefully at the small note and wished he could set it aflame. The cursive from the note stared up at him mockingly and he growled.

_Enjoy the honeymoon, score’s 1 to 6 Squirrel._

“Fucking bastard. You know what, I’m getting a damn drink from the mini-bar.”

He stormed over to the small bar situated by the window and leaned down to open the fridge. Castiel’s voice cut through his annoyance but didn’t stop his actions.

“Weren’t we told not to drink from that?”

“So what? Bastard shouldn’t have hooked the room up to his damn card.”

He opened the fridge and blinked, finding it empty except for a small post it note. He picked it up and read it.

_1 to 7_

Dean crumpled up the note and slammed the door shut with much more force then needed. He stormed over to the bed and set the basket down on the table before snapping the blanket to clear the rose petals off the bed before falling into the it face first.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

“Crowley’s a bastard.”

The words came out muffled, but Dean was already half asleep as he pulled himself fully into the comfortable king size bed. It was by far one of the most luxurious mattresses he’d ever slept on. He buried his face in a pillow, and found himself relaxing. Dean swore he heard a quiet chuckle but figured he was just imagining it as he drifted off into a much needed sleep. 

**Line Break**

_December 7th, 2009_

Crowley arrived at the hotel two hours before they were set to arrive in Bellevue. He wandered up to the desk and gave the receptionist a winning smile, watching the young woman melt with an internal roll of his eyes. He never understood how some women could be disarmed with a simple smile.

“Hello, darling. I have three business partners staying here. Could you ring them and let them know it’s time to head to our meeting? The last name is Winchester.” 

“Of course, Sir. Who can I say is here for them?”

His polite mask almost broke at the purred title and he did his best to ignore the rising annoyance.

“Crowley. Tell them to meet me in the lobby.”

“Very well, have a lovely evening, Sir.”

He ignored the blatant flirtation in her voice and walked back over to sit on one of the couches in the lobby. He pulled out his phone and opened a blank text and went to start type something when he stopped. He snapped the phone shut and relaxed against the leather couch as he watched people pass by in boredom. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he saw Dean and Castiel approaching. The angel was wearing his normal get up, but he thanked the gods Dean _listened_ and put on a damn suit no matter how basic it was. 

“Well, well. You look well rested. Enjoy the room?”

He smirked at the furious look that flashed across the hunter’s face. Dean’s jaw twitched in annoyance as he crossed his arms and glared at him.

“You ain’t funny, ya know that? That was a dick move.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Squirrel. Something wrong with the room?”

“I hate you. I hate you, and you can freaking burn.”

Crowley chuckled and shrugged carelessly as the angel looked between them in confusion. Crowley’s eyes lifted to see Sam walking toward them with a definite sway. 

“I did. It didn’t agree with me, so now I’m here. Ah, looks like Moose is in a good mood.”

It seems the few days in Seattle had been good to the younger hunter. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed two women, identical twins from the looks of it, walking enough behind him that the hunter didn’t seem to notice. Their red hair was still damp from a shower, and their skirts and blouses obviously disheveled. They still moved in sync though as Sam came to stop near Dean.

“We ready to head out? 

The question was asked in a relaxed tone, and it was clear that none of the tension that had dominated the hunter in their previous encounter was there. Crowley opened his mouth to respond just as the two women flanked either side of the Moose and dragged the surprised man down slightly so they could both kiss his cheeks. He shot Dean a look and the man was staring at his brother in disbelief.

“See you tonight, right handsome?”

The woman on the left purred the question and there was a flash in Sam’s eyes that told the demon the younger hunter would walk back to the hotel if it was necessary. The woman on his right had a bright smile as she smacked the hunters ass with a wink.

“Make sure you get a nice meal. You’ll need the energy.”

With that the two walked off leaving a mildly flustered Sam giving off a level of smugness that even Crowley could feel. Dean was giving his brother a look mixed with pride, disbelief, and utter annoyance as he and Sam watched the twins walk away.

“Well, I must say Samual, you certainly know how to make the most of a situation.” 

Crowley’s voice dripped with amusement, and Dean finally seemed to find words as he looked at his brother.

“I really don’t know whether to feel proud or jealous. Shit, Sammy, I didn’t even think you were serious. I need details.”

“You’ll die waiting for them, Dean. Are we ready to go? I’d like to get back here at a reasonable time.”

Sam’s soft voice held an undertone of teasing as Dean pouted.

“I’m sure you would, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam.” The taller hunter corrected with a roll of his eyes. 

Dean shook his head and smiled sappily, “Oh hell no, it’s Sammy. I’m so proud of my baby brother.”

“Fucking Jerk.”

“Ya love me, Bitch.”

Crowley rolled his eyes at the sentimental banter and quickly cut over them.

“If you’re quite done, I’ll call the limo and we can leave.” 

Dean was suddenly all business and he glared one more at Crowley. The demon raised an eyebrow not sure why the hunter seemed suddenly upset.

“Something wrong, Squirrel?” 

“I’m not leaving my car here. We’ll take the Impala; all of us can fit.”

Crowley stared at Dean wondering if the hunter had a screw knocked loose from all the times he’d been thrown around. 

“What was one of the rules, Dean? Your car is a literal arsenal. Why the bloody hell would you think you could bring it?”

The disbelief in his voice was palpable, and Dean looked ready to go to war over the subject. Sam put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and gave him a placating look before turning to Crowley. 

“Crowley, I understand that it was a rule but we won’t take anything out of the Impala. Separating Dean from his car though isn’t going to happen, and it’s a fight I’d rather not have especially when we’re doomed to lose.” 

Crowley gave an aggravated sigh but could see the truth in Sam’s words. He really had no desire to argue, and the truth was his contact could more than handle themselves even if the hunters did try something.

“Fine. On your head be it. You do realize I need to ride with you morons, don’t you? The house has a gate code and if you think I’m giving it to you, you’re insane.”

Dean looked ready to tear into him again, but Sam just squeezed his shoulder once more as he spoke.

“That’s fair. Let’s get going then.”

Sam’s statement was the cue for his brother to lose a decent amount of hostility. The man still huffed and made his way out of the hotel with Castiel walking beside him. It was clear the two were talking about something but Crowley couldn’t quite pick up on it as he followed them. Sam was walking beside him but the younger man seemed to be lost in thought not that Crowley had to wonder about what he was thinking. The smug smile made it clear.

This was going to be a long night, Crowley thought with a roll of his eyes. 


	5. Heaven Dropped a Bombshell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading a day early since I have plans for tomorrow. Enjoy!
> 
> As a CW, this is where the violence starts to ramp up in the story.

_December 5, 2009_

Bobby was once more back at the airport but this time he was waiting to pick someone up. As people started to stream out of the airport he swept his eyes through the crowd trying to pinpoint his friend. Bobby finally spotted Rowen and found himself surprised to see his auburn hair had greyed a bit more since the last time he saw the man. He was now sporting a distinctly peppered look. The man’s amber eyes met his and Rowen grinned as he made his way over to him.

“Bobby, long time.” 

The man leaned in for a quick hug, and Bobby rolled his eyes but hugged the exorcist back. The man pulled away and looked him over carefully and then snapped out quickly, “Christo.”

Bobby rolled his eyes and glared mildly at his friend.

“Isn’t that a bit backward? You hugged me before checking.”

“You let me hug you, hence why I checked.”

Bobby snorted and pulled open the truck door for his friend before making his way back to the driver’s side. Rowen pushed his luggage behind the seat, got in, and pulled out his phone as Bobby pulled away from the pickup zone. A moment later, his amber eyes were once more boring into him, and Bobby knew the conversation was about to go from friendly to serious.

“Alright, Bobby. Fill me in so when we get to the house I’ll know where to start.”

“Ya asked for it. This ain’t a short story.”

“It’s rush hour, we have time.”

Bobby hummed in agreement and began getting his friend up to date on everything that had happened. 

**Line Break**

_December 7th, 2009_

Dean pulled into the open wrought iron gate after Crowley had gotten out and entered the code before getting back into the car. The house was massive and overlooked Lake Washington. He saw Castiel stiffen as they crossed through the gates, and shot his friend a concerned look but didn’t say anything.

“Damn, this place is huge.”

Sam’s statement from the backseat had Dean humming in agreement. Crowley was behind Castiel, and to Dean’s surprise, he saw a flash of anticipation in the demon’s dark eyes in his rearview mirror. That put him on edge, but at the same time, he had to wonder exactly why Crowley seemed to be gunning to get here. Was it really just because he wanted the situation dealt with, or was it something more? 

“It helps when you have 2 million dollars to throw around.”

Crowley’s mildly annoyed, yet somewhat amused, comment caught Dean off guard. Sam made a sound like a strangled cat, and Dean quickly asked.

“What? Your contact ran off with your money?”

“It’s not that much, and they paid it back.”

Dean froze, not having expected the demon to admit such a thing. He pulled into the parking spot they’d been directed to and stared at the demon through the mirror. 

“Hold up, someone took 2 _million_ dollars from you and they’re still breathing?”

The demon shot him a dirty look and Dean plowed on, “Holy shit, who are we meeting? Your wife? Jilted lover? Mistress? That’s the only way I see this person still being alive after a stunt like that.” 

The demon’s eyes flashed red and Dean could feel the anger bubbling just below the surface, but it was only for a moment. It was telling though, and Dean’s curiosity was starting to get the best of him. It was small things like this, and the asinine rules that the demon had set, that told Dean there was something more to this contact then met the eye. Crowley huffed, opened the door, and stepped out of the Impala. Dean shot a look at Sam who shrugged and got out as well. Dean hesitated a moment and muttered to Castiel, “Keep an eye on him.”

“I will. Something feels off, and I don’t trust him.”

Dean hummed in agreement at Castiel’s whispered response as the two exited the car. Crowley began to walk toward the door when a well-dressed man stopped him from entering the house. Dean froze and went to pull a gun when the man’s eyes flashed to black as he eyed Crowley critically. He cursed as he realized he didn’t actually have a damn weapon because of the red-eyed demon. 

“Crowley, interesting to see you here.”

“Stand aside, Xander. You know damn well I’m allowed to be here.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t _Crowley_ , just that it was _interesting_ to see you here.”

The demon simpered the statement and Dean froze at the fury that seemed to pass over Crowley’s face. 

It was crushed quickly and the King of the Crossroads purred, “Interesting it may be, but if you keep her waiting you’ll be dead. As far as favorites go, we both know whose side she’ll take, don’t we? That, or you’ll become a chew toy for my pup.”

The demon paled, and Dean found himself trying to unpack what had just been said. So they were meeting a woman, and Crowley was more than confident that he ranked above anyone else in her eyes. She employed demons but seemed just as quick to cut them down for disloyalty which Dean could grudgingly appreciate. Also, Crowley had a hellhound and one large or vicious enough that the other demon looked sick at the mention of it. Not a small feat from what Dean remembered of Hell.

“Go inside, and keep your damn hunters on a leash, Crowley.”

“Polite as ever, Xander. Watch your step.”

Crowley pushed past the demon making sure to slam his shoulder into him making the taller man stumble slightly. It was a testament to Crowley’s power or the fear the demon had of the woman, that he simply glared at the King of the Crossroads rather than respond. Xander eyed them as they passed as well but a glare from Castiel sent him scurrying away. Seemed between Crowley and Castiel the demon didn’t want to try his luck. Crowley led them through the foyer to a comfortable, if upscale, living room.

“Make yourselves comfortable. I’m sure she’ll be a few minutes yet. Drink?”

Crowley had beelined it to the small bar in the corner of the room near the large wall to wall window overlooking the lake. Dean sat down on the large L-shaped couch that took up most of the room. There were a few chairs facing slightly toward it as well, but Sam sat down next to him. Castiel walked over to the large window and was looking out at the water with a confused and thoughtful look. Dean wondered what was setting the angel on edge but felt it better not to ask while Crowley was around.

“Uh, sure. She got beer?”

Crowley scoffed, but there was the sound of clinking bottles and the demon walked over offering them to him and Sam. Dean frowned not recognizing the name but still pulled out the bottle opener on his keys and popped it open. It seemed like it was an import, likely German if the name was anything to go by, but Dean wasn’t picky. He put it to his lips and took a sip humming in appreciation at the taste. He should have figured someone who had a house like this would have good beer. He shot a look at Crowley who had a crystal tumbler on the bar counter and was pouring himself a drink. The demon picked up the glass and began walking over to them when Dean heard the telltale fluttering of wings. He snapped his head to where Castiel was standing but the angel was still there, though his shoulders were tense. The click of heels drew his attention and Dean started as a woman glided into the living room.

The first thing he noticed was her body. Not in a sexual way, though God _damn_ was she a sight. Her body was completely toned in a way that only a fighter could achieve. The black dress she wore didn’t leave much to the imagination despite going up to her neck. Her back was bare and as she passed him he could see that her back was almost more toned than her legs that he caught a glimpse of due to the thigh-high slit. Every step she took held confidence and it was clear just by the heavy click of her heels she was used to wearing something less dainty than the stilettos she was in. Raven hair was tied up high on her head, and Dean caught a glimpse of blue eyes that rivaled even Castiel’s. Her’s were far darker though and seemed much sharper than the angels. More practiced at picking apart a person. She didn’t pay them any mind as she walked up to Crowley a sultry smile pulling at her red painted lips. 

“Crowley! It’s been _far_ too long.”

The woman purred Crowley’s name in a way that Dean knew could get any man going. She pressed herself against the demon who moved his arm to accommodate the shorter woman without spilling his drink. Crowley’s eyes glowed with something Dean wasn’t sure he could place. It wasn’t lust or even desire, but it wasn’t something as simple as possession either. The woman leaned up, her breasts pushed tight against the demon’s arm, as she pressed a kiss to his jaw. Dean narrowed his eyes at the action and wondered if he’d been right. Her nose nuzzled against Crowley’s jawline for a moment, and Dean knew that action well. Many women would do that in his experience if they wanted to smell a man’s cologne or particularly enjoyed his scent. He’d had more than one partner do that in his past and it was leaving him wondering just what the relationship between the two was. Dean almost snorted his beer when he noticed Crowley, ever so slightly, tilting his head to accommodate her. What the _hell_ was that? Crowley’s arm was draped slightly over her shoulder, but that was purely to accommodate his arm and drink.

“You look lovely as always, darling. Early night?”

“Well, you were coming to visit me. How could I not come home early? Give me a moment to change, and I’ll be right back so you can introduce me to your...associates.”

The beautiful woman pulled away from the demon and left the room with the same confident stride she had entered with. Dean watched her go unable to truly comprehend what had occurred. As soon as he thought she was out of earshot though he spoke up.

“Hey Cas? For the record, THAT’S a honeypot.”

His friend didn’t respond, but Crowley cleared his throat and Dean found himself on the other end of a mild demonic glare. 

“Didn’t I tell you to behave, Squirrel?” 

“I didn’t say it in front of her, now did I?”

Crowley sighed. clearly annoyed but didn’t say anything else as he sipped his drink. The demon sat down in one of the chairs facing the sofa and seemed to become lost in his own thoughts. They were only waiting for a few minutes, and Dean could tell something had Castiel overly agitated as his friend paced behind the couch. The soft pad of socked feet on the tiled floor had Dean looking back toward the entryway and he felt his mouth go dry.

The woman had gone from being beautiful to being _his_ type of woman in the span of a few minutes. 

Her hair, that had been so intricately done up, was now in a messy bun hanging low on her head. She was rocking a pair of skin-tight blue jeans, and a black Guns n Roses long sleeve with the back cut out of it by hand. All pulled together with a pair of obviously worn fuzzy blue socks. 

“Holy fuck.”

He muttered the curse low against the opening of his beer bottle. He wasn’t blind to the dirty look that Crowley shot at him but he could honestly care less. The woman fell into the chair directly across from them without a care to a graceful landing before pulling her legs up so she was sitting cross-legged. 

“So,” she began in a much lighter and less sultry voice then she’d spoken to Crowley with, “How can I help you?”

Dean bit his lip to stop answering that question with the first thing that came to mind and thanked God Crowley decided to speak up first. He instantly regretted that thought, though.

Crowley glared at Dean as the hunter made no effort to hide the thoughts going through his head when he laid eyes on his contact. Really, did he have no filter? He may not have said anything but his eyes were speaking volumes. Going by the amusement rolling off her, she had noticed as well.

"You never look at me like that, Squirrel. I'm starting to get offended. Especially after that lovely room, I got you."

Dean sputtered slightly and seemed at a loss as to how to respond. Crowley smirked but it was quickly quashed by an amused voice coupled with a feminine laugh.

"Of course he doesn't look at you like that, Crowley. The man has standards."

Their eyes met for a moment, and Crowley did his best not to let out the aggravated growl that was building in his chest as he stared into amused cobalt eyes. Underneath the amusement was a placating look, and he knew she was only doing this to prove a point. Best to just play along and bitch about it over drinks once they weren’t around the hunters.

“I won’t dignify that with a response, darling. This is Sam and Dean Winchester, and their angel Castiel.”

He saw a flicker of emotion in her eyes at the introduction of Castiel. He’d worried about her reaction to seeing another angel, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He wasn’t sure what, if any association, she’d had with Castiel so it was best just to let the hunters bring the angel with them. Now though he was thinking he should have warned her.

“An angel. Interesting.”

She murmured the words as she and Castiel stared at each other. Crowley could feel the tension now, and really wished he’d sent a simple text to warn her.

“Uh, Cas? I just got bitched at about my wandering eyes.”

Dean’s attempt to make a joke saw a flash of anger pass through Castiel’s eyes and Crowley winced. She sighed and tilted her head breaking the staring contest between them.

“Your presence here makes an introduction on my part rather useless, little brother.”

There was no denying the placating tone in her voice now, and Crowley found his interest piqued. He watched as Castiel’s eyes flashed to a dark ominous silver, almost grey, before settling back to a soft blue.

“Azrial.”

Castiel ground out the name and Crowley wasn’t blind to the multitude of questions that were laced through it. She simply tilted her head to the side and stood up. The Winchester’s scrambled to their feet and were staring at her in shock.

“Wow, wow, wait just a damn minute! Cas, you said your sister was _dead_!” 

Azrial’s fingers twitched at her sides at Dean’s shouted comment, but otherwise, she didn’t move. Her gaze was still locked on Castiel who was eyeing her with a maelstrom of emotions clear on his face.

“I did, and she was. Angels leave a rather distinct mark when they die, Dean.”

Castiel’s snapped statement took the hunter aback, but now he was watching Azrial warily. It seemed, for whatever reason, the hunters knew exactly who she was and it set them on edge. Azrial shifted her stance and to his surprise, she flashed her eyes to their angelic silver color, and in a move, he’d seen many angels use allowed the shadowy imprint of her wings unfurl behind her. It was never something she’d normally do. She had a far more potent way of getting attention but seemed to realize that this was how the hunters were used to an angel flexing their muscles. 

“Oh _fuck_.”

Sam muttered the statement, and Dean was nodding as the wings fell back into invisibility once more. Azrial shut her eyes and when they opened they were once more the piercing cobalt he was accustomed to. 

“You bastard! You brought us to an archangel, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Sam’s snarled question took Crowley by surprise, but he didn’t get the chance to respond to the accusation.

“He brought you here because _you_ need help.”

Azrial’s voice cut through the panic and anger in the room like a knife. It was cool and booked no room for argument. It also had a profound effect of Castiel losing his initial hostility. Instead, the angel was eyeing her with curiosity, and Crowley wasn’t sure if that was better or not. 

“Sit down. I won’t hurt you, and you’re more than welcome to walk out that door once our conversation is over. I’ve made time for you; the least you can do is explain why you’re here.”

Azrial kept her voice level and to show that she meant to ill will sat back down. The brothers seemed to consider their options and Crowley could see the broad strokes of a silent conversation passing between them. Sam and Dean finally sat back down but they were now eyeing Azrial warily. She sighed and rested her chin on her palm before speaking.

“It doesn’t take a genius to guess why you’re here. You’ve run out of options with regards to Lucifer, haven’t you?”

The question held no ill intent or judgment. Just a heavy sense of truth, but Crowley could tell it still didn’t sit well with the hunters. He decided to give them a chance to collect themselves.

“You did say using The Colt would be like shooting a grenade into the sun. I’m more inclined to point a brighter, more vicious, sun at him.”

Azrial snorted and that seemed to give the hunters enough time to get their thoughts in order. 

“Why would she do that, Crowley? Going off other archangel reactions why would she be any different?”

Dean’s voice was tightly civil and Crowley was impressed that he’d been able to keep it that way. Azrial turned her gaze back to Dean who seemed startled that she didn’t shy away from the question. 

“Let me guess. Michael said he was obeying orders, you haven’t actually met Raphael, Lucifer is acting like the world’s most bitchy victim, and Gabriel told you to go fuck yourselves?”

Dean looked like a fish out of the water as Azrial summarized her brothers’ reactions in a way only a sister could. Crowley snorted in amusement and finally began to relax again. 

“How, how the hell did you know that?”

Sam breathed out the question looking at her with a bit more respect. Azrial laughed as she lifted her head from her palm once more, and shot Castiel a knowing look before turning back to Sam.

“Truthfully, Raphael was a guess. Michael and Lucifer were predictable. Gabriel, on the other hand, was based on if you’d been able to _find_ him.”

“We did. We tried to ask him for help but he said it was inevitable. Then told us to fuck off.”

Azrial rolled her eyes and Sam’s annoyed statement but she hummed in understanding.

“That sounds like him. Don’t worry about Gabe. When the chips are finally down and it comes time to choose, he’ll side with humanity. He’s far too attached at this point, and he doesn’t want to see a boss fight between his older brothers.”

The certainty in her voice took them all by surprise. Crowley hadn’t realized that she held such confidence in another archangel, but given what had been said it made sense in this situation. If Gabriel had run off and Azrial had been forced into hiding it would make sense that they could understand the other’s viewpoint even if they didn’t interact directly. 

“I’ve gotta ask, why didn’t you just tell us who your contact was, Crowley? You didn’t even tell us she was a woman.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow at Dean but kept his tone even as he responded.

“I offered to introduce you when I gave you The Colt over a month ago. Azrial is extremely private for obvious reasons and if anyone, and I mean anyone, knew we were interacting we’d both have problems.”

Dean looked confused and Castiel spoke up for the first time since he and Azrial had faced off.

“You’d be killed if Hell was feeling lenient and Azrial would be labeled a traitor and treated no better than Lucifer.”

Azrial nodded, “Exactly right, Castiel. My situation is already volatile as it is. I have no desire to have a conversation with Michael or Lucifer about why I’m working with a demon.”

“Why _are_ you working with a demon? I think we have a right to know.”

Sam’s question was met by a frown from Azrial, and Crowley doubted he looked any kinder than the archangel at the question. 

“Explain to me why you have a right to such information, Sam Winchester. Our business is exactly that, ours. Castiel just explained why we keep it that way.” 

“We have a right to know if we’ll be working together. Crowley already exacted a price for us even getting in here. How do we know-”

“You can trust us?”

She cut Sam off with her question and Crowley watched as it brought the young hunter up short. Sam gave a stiff nod, and Azrial rolled her eyes and shot him a look. He raised an eyebrow at the expectant look but hummed after a moment.

“Simply put Moose, you can’t. You shouldn’t _trust_ anyone, especially not right now.”

That answer didn’t seem to sit well with Sam, but Dean stopped his brother from continuing down that vain by speaking up.

“So we can’t trust you. Then why are we here? No offense, lady, but your brothers haven’t left the greatest impression and now you’re offering to help us? Why? What are you getting out of this?”

The smile Azrial directed at Dean couldn’t be considered nice. It was rather predatory and Crowley had to stifle his amusement at the discomfort that seemed to fall over the two humans in the room.

“Me? My job becomes less of a shit show and paperwork stops piling up with no end in sight. Do you have any idea how messy an apocalypse can get? Especially an apocalypse that hasn’t been signed off by Death?”

That question brought the three up short and Crowley was glad she’d asked such a pointed question. The Winchesters needed to realize the scope of this problem went beyond just them and their people. Castiel may better understand, but his exposure to humans left him with the same attachments that the hunters had. Attachments blinded you to the end goal, and Crowley would never understand why people would let themselves be distracted in a life or death situation by a single person or group of people. It was foolish.

“Wait, Death isn’t behind this? The other horsemen are.”

Sam’s question caused Azrial to roll her eyes and Crowley snorted in amusement at the action. She hated having to explain herself in such minute detail, and he could tell she was approaching the end of her patience. 

“Death isn’t simply a horseman and thinking that will get your fool asses killed. Death is ever-present, always there, and not bound by the same rules or stipulations as the others. He exists with or without them, and he has the power to leave his cage at will. Death existed before all of us, and he will exist after all of us. He views all of this as nothing more than a _tantrum,_ I assure you.”

That seemed to shock them into silence and Crowley pointed out.

“Part of the reason for the time constraint is that Lucifer is setting out to bind Death next Thursday. If that happens, kiss Death’s abstinence goodbye. He won’t have a choice anymore.”

Azrial hummed and nodded in agreement. Crowley could pinpoint the moment panic set into the hunters. Castiel was much better at hiding it, but he could still see the slight crease in his brow that marked his concern. 

“That’s only ten days away.”

Dean’s voice was shaky and Crowley could see Sam looked defeated. Azrial sighed and turned her gaze toward Castiel.

“Ten days is enough time, don’t you think Castiel? After all, you’ll have my help.”

Castiel stiffened and there was a clear look of disbelief on his face. He saw Azrial smirk and he had to wonder about what she was implying to the other angel. Castiel turned to Dean who was watching the byplay.

“She’s right. Ten days is enough with her help.”

“So you’ll help us? What’s your price?”

Sam’s skepticism was dripping off his questions and Azrial rolled her eyes. Crowley knew her patience with the situation had dissipated. 

“Crowley already named my price.”

He froze and shot her a look but she didn’t meet his gaze. Sam, Dean, and Castiel were staring at her and varying stages of surprise and shock.

“What do you mean by that?” Dean asked.

“Crowley’s deal to meet me was to leave him alone. My price to help you is your _word_ that you will leave him alone. No betrayal. No trying to swing it so it seems like self-defense. You’ll let him walk away, and you won’t make a move against him so long as he doesn’t make a move against you.” 

Crowley hadn’t realized she was going to be so blatant in her defense of him. He’d expected her, especially with the presence of Castiel, to tiptoe around the situation. Instead, she’d plowed right into the conversation and took the bull by the horns.

Really, he shouldn’t have expected anything less from the blunt archangel. 

“Why?”

Castiel’s one-word question saw some of the annoyance from Azrial’s face melt away. Her gaze was a touch softer at his obvious confusion.

“Castiel, it’s been a long time. People change, even angels will change with enough time. My reasons are my own. Perhaps, when we’re alone you could ask more questions, but I won’t talk about this in front of two hunters I don’t know beyond my older brothers’ desire to jump their bones.” 

Dean sputtered in agitation and Crowley was utterly amused at her wording. Suddenly, Azrial stiffened and Crowley shot her a look.

“What’s wrong, Azrial?”

That got the other three’s attention, and Castiel looked a mite irritated, but Crowley couldn’t imagine why. Azrial stood up and her eyes darted to the window.

“Crowley, get them out of here.”

The seriousness in her voice had him getting to his feet without any more prompting. She walked over to the wall where two dual blade short swords hung and she pulled them down. 

“Azrial are you sure-”

He kept his voice low but she turned to him with a smile. Not the half smirks or the polite smiles she’d been giving the others all night. This was soft and genuine. It had been a long time since he’d seen that and honestly didn’t know what to say in the wake of it.

“I’d hate to get blood on your suit. Go, get them out of here. I’ll meet up with you for that drink when I’m done.”

She spun the blade in her hand with practiced ease but her arm was twitching slightly in anticipation. Crowley could feel the others staring at them and he exhaled sharply. He nodded and turned away from the archangel and walked past the Winchesters.

“Let’s go. The house is under attack.”

“What? Then how are we getting out?”

Dean snapped the question but followed the demon. Castiel kept stride with Dean and muttered, “She’s staying. We’ll be fine.”

“Why do you have so much freaking faith in her?”

They’d made it outside only for Xander to stop them from reaching the Impala. The demon smirked at Crowley.

“Shame, Crowley. Seems someone tipped off Lucifer to your location.”

Crowley snarled and raised his hand to attack the demon only for a blade to go through the demon’s throat. He tried to smoke out only for a hand to reach up and cover his mouth. Crowley stared into the demon’s panicked eyes and smirked just as the telltale glow of smiting lit up the meat suits eyes. The body crumbled to the ground revealing Azrial with a spattering of blood on her cheek and neck.

“Are you all deaf? Go!”

She snapped the command, and Crowley saw Castiel drag Sam and Dean away without any further prompting. He met her eyes one last time and gave a slight nod before she took off back into the house. He shot Dean a look when he honked the horn and shook his head before vanishing from the area.

If what Xander said was correct he’d been made. Best to stay away from the two VIPs of the apocalypse. It was time to get underground and stay there. Azrial would take care of any demons before they became a problem. He knew that was why the angel wasn’t using her blade. An archangel blade would be noticeable and if one did escape, they’d tattle to Lucifer in a second. This way she looked, at worst, a rogue angel. 

It was less than fifteen minutes later as he was sitting in his safe house that Azrial appeared. There was more blood on her face than before but that didn’t stop the archangel from smiling brightly at him as she set the two blades on the table.

“Got my drink?”

He snorted as he slid a glass over to her and she downed it in one shot before setting the glass down with a sharp snap. He eyed her blood-covered face and neck and rolled his eyes before gesturing to the bathroom.

“Grab a shower. You reek of inadequacy.”

“Really? I thought I reeked of traitors?” 

He chuckled low in his throat and tilted his drink to her, “I think we’re both right, darling. Still, go get cleaned up, then we can talk.”

She smirked and tapped her nails against the table in thought, “Sure you can wait half an hour?”

“It’s been three years, Azrial. What’s less than an hour to talk about our plans?”

Azrial laughed and Crowley hated to admit it but things really were more interesting when the archangel was around. 


	6. Team Free Will

_December 8th, 2009_

His personal cell phone ringing broke Bobby’s concentration. Rowen looked up from the book he was reading as well when Bobby looked at the caller ID.

“About damn time they called.”

Rowen raised an eyebrow but remained silent as Bobby flipped open the phone and put it on speaker, “You boys on your way back?”

The question had three voices trying to answer him at once and Bobby sighed and snapped, “One at a time, idjits!”

Rowen snorted and Bobby shot his friend a dirty look when he saw how amused the exorcist was. 

“Bobby, I need you to pull all the lore you can find on someone.”

Bobby frowned at Dean’s snapped statement and Castiel cut over him, “There is hardly any lore out there, Dean. I told you this.”

“Well, if the lore exists I’m sure Bobby has it. I mean, it’s Bobby for God’s sake.”

“Dean-”

Bobby cut off the bickering between the angel and Dean with another snapped question, “What the hell are you both on about? What happened at the meeting?”

There were several seconds of quiet bickering and then the phone seemed to change hands and Sam spoke up, “We met another archangel, Bobby.”

Bobby felt his blood freeze at the nonchalant statement. Rowen stood up and walked over to the desk.

“Another archangel? Who did you meet, Micheal, Raphael, or Gabriel?” 

Despite not knowing who was speaking, three responses were quickly fired by his boys, starting with Dean.

“Micheal’s a freakin’ egomaniac with Daddy issues.”

“Gabriel’s a cowardly bastard.”

Bobby couldn’t help but snort at Sam’s snarled comment. The younger hunter seemed personally offended by Gabriel. 

“Raphael is useless.”

Castiel muttered the statement, and Bobby lost his struggle and laughed outright. Rowen looked dumbfounded at the three’s statements but just shook his head.

“You’ve obviously had a rough time of it. Thing is, besides Lucifer that doesn’t really leave you an archangel to meet.”

“Huh, that voice sounds familiar. Bobby, who’s there with you?”

Rowen looked surprised at Dean’s question but Bobby quickly answered, “It’s Rowen. I’m surprised you recognize his voice. I mean, it’s been a while since you or your brother has seen him.” 

“Holy shit, Rowen ‘I own a holy grenade launcher’ Anderson is at your house?”

Bobby hadn’t felt this amused in years. It took a lot to get Dean truly excited about something. Now he was fanboying over the exorcist who looked abashed at the absolute adoration dripping off the younger man’s voice.

“He is.”

There was the sound of screeching tires and Sam screamed, “FOR FUCKS SAKE DEAN! He’ll be there when we get there, but if you kill us that won’t matter!”

Dean didn’t respond and Sam gave an aggravated sigh, “We’ll see you soon as long as Dean doesn’t get us killed, Bobby.”

“You can let your brother know Rowen is here for at least a week. Maybe then he’ll slow down.”

“If only.”

The annoyed amusement dripped off Sam’s voice as the phone cut off. Bobby looked over at Rowen who still looked flustered from Dean’s outburst and broke out laughing again despite the dirty look directed at him. Bobby rolled his eyes and his friend huffed but his lips twitched in amusement. The phone buzzed and he looked down at the text from Sam with a raised eyebrow.

“Azrial. Why does that name sound familiar?”

Rowen hummed and he looked at the name before pulling up one of the older tomes and began paging through. He stopped and tapped the picture of a male angel leaned over a grieving man. 

“The angel of death. Never labeled as an archangel though, and his existence has always been debated.”

“His?”

Bobby stared down at the rest of the message and Rowen frowned at his friend.

“Well, yes, his. Azrael, though I guess we got the spelling wrong, is always male in religious texts.”

“Better make a post-it note for the Vatican then. _She’s_ an archangel.”

**Line Break**

Sam snapped his phone shut and glared at Dean who was still going thirty over the posted speed limit. 

“Dean, slow the hell down. Rowen will be there for at least a week, if not longer.”

“Bite me, Sammy. I haven’t seen Rowen in freakin’ ages.” 

“I can’t understand your damn fascination with the man, Dean. How many times have you actually met him?”

Dean snorted and slowed down slightly as the road began to fill with cars once more. 

“You mean beyond the fact the man has a _literal_ holy grenade launcher?” 

Sam looked skyward praying for some sort of sense to take hold of this conversation, but given the presence of an angel in the back seat perhaps he should just ask Castiel.

“Cas, please tell me I’m not the only one lost?”

“I’m unsure, but this Rowen Anderson, is he a Vatican exorcist?” 

Dean shot a look at Castiel through his mirror, “You know him?”

“I’m aware of him. He’s a human of interest. Michael has always seemed particularly interested in him.” 

Dean frowned and a thoughtful look passed over his face as he continued to drive. Sam shifted and turned toward Castiel to pick the angel’s brain.

“Why was Michael interested in him?”

“The Vatican has always been a topic of contention in Heaven. They have a habit of knowing far more than they should. Anderson was, is, one of their best. Both he and his father were some of the best exorcists to walk Earth.” 

Castiel’s voice was calmly thoughtful as he explained the situation from Heaven’s perspective. Sam scrunched his brow in thought as he thought over the angel’s words. Dean snorted and rolled his eyes.

“I swear Michael just has a thing for badasses. Must be lacking.”

Sam snorted at his brother’s comment, and Castiel tilted his head in confusion.

“Lacking?”

“I’m talking about his-oh never mind, it’s nothing Cas. Just commenting on Michael’s taste in men.”

Castiel still looked confused, but Dean just shot him an amused smile before turning his eyes back to the road. Sam watched the interaction with a knowing smirk before he turned back to the book he’d been reading before he called Bobby. It would be twenty hours before they hit Sioux Falls and he had to drown out the music his brother was playing.

**Line Break**

Rowen set the book down with an aggravated sigh. Perhaps the angel with the Winchester brothers was right. Maybe, there really wasn’t any substantial lore on Azrial. They’d been picking through the books with little luck beyond very basic facts. 

“This is strange. Why is there so little lore on her?”

Bobby voiced the question Rowen had been mulling over for hours now. The exorcist sighed and leaned back in his chair as he pushed to book away from him. 

“Honestly? I don’t know. Is it possible she lied about who she is?”

“Possible? Sure. Likely? No. Castiel is an angel and he'd be able to see her for what she really is.”

Rowen hummed in acknowledgment as he tapped his pencil against the desk in thought. Bobby shut the book he was reading and Rowen raised an eyebrow in question. The man sighed and added it back to the stack.

“We’ve got some information at least. I think Castiel will be our best source at this point.”

“Maybe, but how can you know his information is accurate? From what you said, he thought she was dead.”

“He did. Outdated information is better than no information though.”

Rowen shook his head and Bobby shot him a questioning look so the exorcist explained,

“Outdated information could be more dangerous in this situation. It’s not like a hunt, Bobby. Think of the angels like pagan gods for a moment. Depending on the time and scenario, each acts a different way in the lore. The difference between what would anger Minerva versus Athena, for example, differs greatly.”

“Ya sayin’ she may react badly if we attempt to interact with her purely on Castiel’s information?” 

“Yes.”

The hunter seemed to mull over his words, and Rowen found himself wondering how much bullshit the man had to put up with in the past few years. The Winchester boys being in the middle of this shit show meant Bobby had likely been involved from day one. Bobby would never come right out and say it but he viewed those boys like the children he’d never had. That sobering thought brought a heavy seriousness back to the situation. As interesting as the prospect of meeting two angels was for him, Rowen had to remember he was here to ease his friend’s burden. For Bobby, this situation had a lot on the line and the biggest risk wasn’t to the hunter’s life.

It was to his boys’ lives.

“Ya may be right. Any suggestions?”

“Don’t forget she’s a walking weapon.”

There was no give in his response and Bobby’s brow scrunched in response to Rowen’s heavy answer. The exorcist had picked up on the way his friend had spoken about Castiel. The angel seemed to have nestled into an otherwise closed-off heart, and while Rowen didn’t judge Bobby for it, he worried his friend may forget that angels weren’t something to trifle with. 

“You think I’d forget just ‘cause Castiel is around, didn’t you?”

“You always were good seeing through me, Bobby.”

He wouldn’t admit the man was correct outright but he had no shame in admitting that he’d been seen through. Bobby eyed him for several moments but sighed and tilted his head in agreement.

“I won’t forget. Castiel isn’t like the other angels and that’s disgustingly hard to forget these days.”

There was a touch of bitterness in the man’s voice and Rowen’s gaze softened. Bobby was under more stress than he would ever admit, and it was starting to show. Perhaps it’s because he’d known the man for so long but he could see the strain of the Apocalypse weighing on him. It was in the tension around his neck and shoulders and the way the man’s expression seemed caught in a semi-permanent frown. 

“I’m sorry, it was stupid to think you’d forget.”

“It doesn’t matter. How’ve things been with you?”

The change in conversation was clear, but Rowen allowed it. They were getting nowhere with the research so it was best to focus on something else until the others arrived. 

“Well, the wife wasn’t overly pleased that I was coming out here.”

“Still on the rocks with her?”

“When am I not?”

Now the bitterness had crept into his own voice and Rowen sighed in aggravation. Perhaps the topic change hadn’t been the safest. 

“I thought things were okay between you two?”

“They were. For a time. I agreed to stop hunting and going on jobs for the Vatican unless they were local and that helped. With the Apocalypse gearing up things have been tense at the orphanage.”

“More kids showing up than normal?”

Rowen looked away from his friend as he answered,

“Yeah. Hunters are dying more frequently with everything going on. Whether it be monsters or demons it doesn’t matter. I just thank God I have the Vatican backing the upkeep. Can’t imagine trying to run the orphanage otherwise.”

“That has the old lady upset?”

“No, me coming here does. She counts this as a hunt and she doubts the reason I came.”

Bobby was silent for several moments and Rowen could see the man’s mind filtering through all the information he’d been given. Bobby tapped his fingers against the open tome in front of him as he spoke, “She thinks you’re chasing a lead on Lily.”

“She does. I can’t blame Susan, I chased after leads on Lily for _years_. I just wish she’d have more faith in me. I haven’t actively looked for a lead in more than five years, and even the ones that show up I never go personally check.” 

“You realize you may finally be able to get answers, don’t you?”

Rowen was taken aback by the question and his confusion must have shown because Bobby continued without missing a beat. 

“Well, the one thing we do know is Azrial is the angel of death. She may have the answers you’re looking for, and may be in sharing mood if we tread carefully around her and Crowley.”

Rowen remained silent at Bobby’s blunt statement. The man had a point but there was a risk in asking such questions. It had only taken a year for him to realize Lily was likely dead. He only knew he’d been married to her because he found their marriage certificate. He’d had retrograde amnesia according to doctors but even 25 years ago he knew that was bull. To forget _everything_ about her meant there was something supernatural going on especially considering the last thing he remembered was being in the middle of an exorcism. 

“Rowen?”

“It’s irrelevant.” 

His response was automatic but he meant it. It had been 25 years since Lily had gone missing. If she was alive she’d stayed away, and in his opinion that told its own story. Whether it was to protect him or perhaps she’d just left because of his memory loss.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I meant what I said Bobby, I do love Susan. I never deserved her and God knows I haven’t treated her as I should. It would be one betrayal too many if I asked this archangel what happened.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow but looked pleased with his response. He knew his pursuit of Lily had put Bobby on edge at times and looking back, he knew it was because it had turned a bit obsessive at points. 

“I could ask.”

The offer was genuine, and Rowen smiled softly at Bobby. The man really could be too kind at times. 

“No. It’s best to leave well enough alone. If I were meant to know what happened, I would have found something by now. Every lead since day one has been a dead end and maybe that’s for the best.”

“Look at you getting wise in your old age.”

“You’re almost two years older than me.”

Rowen’s voice dripped with amusement as he rolled his eyes at Bobby’s comment. The hunter snorted and smirked slightly, “Yet still the better looking one.”

“Fuck you, Bobby.”

“Pass. I don’t fuck around with married people.”

Rowen laughed as he pulled the book back toward him. Perhaps with a fresh pair of eyes, he’d find something out about this elusive archangel. 

**Line Break**

_December 10, 2009_

Dean practically jumped out of the car as soon as he parked. He knew he was acting a bit ridiculous, but between Crowley’s contact actually having teeth and the willingness to fight Lucifer and Rowen being at Bobby’s, he was in a disgustingly good mood. 

For the first time in almost a year, he had _hope_. So sue him if he was overly happy about life. 

“Dean if you fall and bust your face I won’t help you up. I’m gonna laugh my ass off.”

“Oh shut it, Samantha. I’m gonna let Bobby know we're here, so grab the bags.”

“Don’t drool on Rowen, jerk.”

“Shut up, bitch.” 

Dean’s amusement dripped off his response as he shouted back to his brother. Even Sam was feeling a bit more hopeful and it showed in his younger brother’s banter. It came easier, and Sam seemed far more at ease. That was something Dean would have given the world for. Leaving Crowley alone was a small price to pay to see a glimpse of his brother from before all this shit started happening.

Dean pushed open the screen door and called out to the house, “Hey, Bobby we’re back!”

The splash of holy water to the face really didn’t take him by surprise, but when he sputtered and opened his eyes he was surprised to meet amber instead of Bobby’s familiar blue eyes. 

“Well, well, Dean Winchester, it’s been a long time. How’s that brother of yours doing?”

The smooth voice with a hint of Boston accent had a grin forming on Dean’s face. While the man’s eyes were extremely unique and impossible to confuse with anyone else it had taken Dean a moment to connect his appearance to the man. While Rowen looked good for his age, especially as a hunter, it was obvious by the peppering of grey through his auburn hair his age was starting to show.

“Sam’s doing great, Father Anderson. How have you been?”

“I’m well, and I swear I’ve told you to call me Rowen. Every time I hear Father Anderson I think my father’s come back from the grave to question my life choices.”

Dean’s smile faltered. He hadn’t realized Abraham had died. He shouldn’t be surprised given the man’s age but it highlighted the fact he hadn’t seen either in several years.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“Dean, it’s okay. My father lived a good life. He died in his sleep, and given our line of work you can’t really find fault in such a death, can you?”

The comforting tone took Dean aback for a moment, but he quickly plowed on wanting to get past his conversational fuck up. He doubted the man wanted to dwell on his father’s death even if it was from natural circumstances. 

“Guess not. Is Bobby around?”

“Yeah, he was just making himself lunch. Wanted to be ready to talk about what we found when you got here. I heard you had an angel with you?”

Dean almost laughed at the look in Rowen’s eyes. It was clear the exorcist had every intention of picking Castiel’s brain as soon as the angel was nearby. As if on cue, Castiel wandered in with one of the bags shortly followed by Sam who beelined for the bathroom after dropping his.

“Hey Cas, come ‘ere for a second.”

The angel shot him a confused look but set the bag down on the floor and walked over. Once he was at his side Dean slung his arm around Castiel’s shoulder with a smirk.

“Rowen, this is Castiel, the mighty angel of the Lord. Cas, this is Father Rowen Anderson.”

Castiel shot him a dirty look at the introduction but still extended his hand when Rowen offered his. Castiel tilted his head as he looked at Rowen with a searching look in his eyes.

“Ah, now it makes sense.”

The angel’s statement took both by surprise, and Dean pulled his arm back so he could look at his friend.

“What makes sense, Cass?”

“Michael’s interest in this human. I hadn’t realized it because I’d never personally met him.”

“Michael, the archangel Michael, was interested in me?”

Rowen sounded confused and a bit concerned at the angel’s blunt admission. Dean though was focused on getting the ‘why’ out of Castiel.

“Cas, you’re doing that angelic thing where you don’t explain crap again.”

The angel squinted at Dean for a few moments but then sighed, “Rowen Anderson’s soul is particularly pure. Angel’s tend to covet such souls for Heaven’s designs. As vessels, holy figures, or even martyrs.”

“I am right here. If you’re going to stare through me to my soul the least you could do is buy me dinner first.”

Dean wheezed as he choked out a laugh at the sarcastic comment paired with the exorcist’s deadpan look. Castiel looked confused, but before he could ask what the exorcist meant Bobby entered the living room with a sandwich in one hand and a beer in the other. 

“You idjits finally got back. How fast were you goin’?”

“I went the speed limit.” 

“Try again, Dean. You were going at least 15 over the entire time.”

Sam entered the room with that snipped comment and fell into a chair. Dean huffed as he sat down as well and before Castiel could get away from him, Rowen dragged the angel to sit near him much to Dean’s amusement. 

“Well, let’s get this meeting of Team Free Will underway then.”

“Where the hell did you come up with that name?”

Sam’s amused question was accented by Bobby’s snort of laughter and Dean answered with a smirk.

“Well, three hunters, a Vatican Exorcist, and a powered down angel all going against the plans of Heaven and Hell need a name. So, Team Free Will it is!”

“I’m ashamed to be related to you.”

“Bite me, Sammy.”

“Hard pass Dean. You’re not my type.”

With that joking comment, the room turned serious. Dean clung to the hope he’d felt since they’d met Azrial and the archangel signed on to help them. They’d make it out of this. No one else would die. They could do this. 

Watch out you feathered bastards, Dean thought with a smirk as Bobby pulled out his research, we’re coming for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your support thus far. Every comment, kudo, and bookmark is an amazing feeling. I started out writing this for just myself and two other people, and to see others enjoying it is a great feeling! Arc 2 is still in the drafting phase, but it's about halfway done now!


	7. The Enemy of My Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Alcoholism and Racism*
> 
> *You are going to see throughout this series that there is a very deep divide between angels and demons. This is shown in the show, but not to the extent I plan on exploring here in this series. Many of the behaviors you see angels, including Castiel at first, use toward demons can be seen at least as prejudice, and at worse a form of racism. I think Ruby summed it up nicely in season four:
> 
> "They're angels. I'm a demon. They aren't going to care if I'm being helpful. They smite first, then they ask questions later."
> 
> Please, keep this in mind going forward. The way Crowley is treated by the Winchesters' will honestly look nice by the time we start seeing other angels' views of him hanging out with Azrial.

_December 11, 2009_

Sam paged through the small stack of papers that Bobby had handed off to him after he sat down. The information was cursory and it answered none of their questions about Azrial. Castiel hadn’t wanted to go into her history in the car because he knew Bobby would want the explanation and the angel hated repeating himself. Sam’s eyes darted over to the angel who looked uncomfortable with the multitude of questions Rowen was shooting off at him. Castiel still answered them, but Sam could see the irritation mounting and decided to spare the angel further discomfort.

“So, you really didn’t find much.”

“No. I was hoping Castiel may be able to tell us how much of that is BS and what’s not.”

Bobby’s gruff response had the angel reaching out his hand to take the stack of papers. Sam handed them over before relaxing back into the couch. Castiel’s eyes scanned the papers quickly, and Sam could just make out the upward twitch of the angel’s lips. After several minutes Castiel snorted and set the papers down.

“Well, one thing was right. She is the Angel of Death, but even that is flawed. She only serves the primordial Death. Azrial doesn’t control any aspects; she's simply an overseer. An overpowered reaper if you’d like a comparison.” 

“Wait, so she’s not powerful enough to face up against Lucifer?”

Dean sounded like someone punched him in the gut but Castiel quickly shook his head.

“No, you misunderstand. I’m saying in relation to Death she’s not really as important as the lore makes her out. Azrial is powerful, equal to Michael, and more than able to go one on one with Lucifer.”

Sam froze and realized quickly that Castiel was omitting something important, and knowing what he did about Lucifer he could already guess what it was.

“Lucifer would never face a more powerful opponent one on one. He’s too smart and manipulative for that.”

Castiel nodded in agreement with his words, and Sam wondered exactly what Azrial planned on doing in regards to Lucifer. She was his sister, so she had to know that he’d never willingly trade blows with her for fear of his life. Hell, Sam was pretty sure Lucifer didn’t want to go up against Michael either. It was just a consequence of the fallen archangel wanting to wipe out humanity, and Michael being the perfect little soldier. 

“I thought Michael was the most powerful of the archangels?”

Rowen’s question was met by Castiel raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure why humans think just because Michael was created first that he is the most powerful. All the archangels have around the same amount of raw power at their disposal, but how they use it dictates their strengths. I’m sure Sam and Dean could tell you what a nuisance Gabriel can be.”

Sam winced just as Dean groaned in response to the Trickster’s name. Rowen turned to him questioningly and Sam sighed.

“Gabriel has an ability that lets him create, for lack of a better term, pocket dimensions. That’s on top of the fact he’s one of the best practitioners of illusions I’ve ever seen even among creatures like djinn. There are no flaws in Gabriel’s illusions or dimensions. It takes a damn miracle to get out of either.” 

Sam couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice, and Bobby shot him a sympathetic look. Sam shrugged showing he was okay but the annoyance didn’t leave his face. He’d love to punch the archangel in his smug face for the whole Mystery Spot incident, and then the asshole went and threw them into some demented TV recreation. It was infuriating, but Sam could admit he was impressed that the archangel could pull it over on them twice. 

“That’s impressive. So you’re saying that all the archangels are that powerful?”

Rowen’s question was directed at Castiel who hummed softly, “In a way. Raphael is the youngest of the five. He is the weakest in theory, but he makes up for it in strategy and cunning. He took after Lucifer in that respect. After all, you don’t have to be a heavy hitter if you can stab your enemy in the back before they notice your approach.”

Sam frowned at the mild disgust in Castiel’s voice and wondered why it seemed the angel didn’t like Raphael. Even when Castiel had been arguing with Gabriel there was an underlying hostility about the youngest archangel. Had Raphael done something to Castiel, or was it just a case of not liking how the archangel commanded his troops? Sam doubted Castiel would answer even if he asked, so kept his silence on the matter. 

“So how much of a power difference actually exists between them, Cas? It seems like you’re saying there is a power difference but also not. Which is it?”

Dean’s question caused the angel to sigh, and Sam wondered if it was in aggravation or just exhaustion. 

“Michael and Azrial are both frontline soldiers. You don’t want to be facing either in direct combat. Lucifer, as you know, is disgustingly good at mind games. He could make you second guess why you’re even there, and he’s no slouch with a blade. He’s just not as good as Michael or Azrial.”

The angel paused and seemed to consider his next words carefully once he noticed everyone’s attention was on him. 

“Gabriel was actually Heaven’s healer. He is by far the best healer among the angels, and his right hand Cassiel was the only one who could keep up with him.”

The reminiscent air in Castiel’s voice had Sam shooting a look to Dean who raised an eyebrow in response but remained silent. Castiel shook his head trying to clear his thoughts before he continued.

“Raphael is quite like how I’ve seen human politicians act. He’s an opportunist who will throw his weight behind whoever has the most power. In this case, it’s Michael. Raphael and Azrial almost tore each other apart during the rebellion in Heaven. I don’t think you’d be surprised by me saying Azrial almost killed him for raising a weapon against her. Not on purpose, of course. Raphael was simply unprepared for her ferocity.”

Sam swallowed thickly at Castiel’s casual admission. Without context for the situation he couldn’t fault Azrial’s response but how did that make the archangel different from Michael, or even Lucifer? 

“So it’s down to how they use their power, and only Michael and Azrial are combat specialists?”

Bobby’s question was met by Castiel’s nod though the angel further explained.

“Michael is the General of Heaven’s armies. Every move, every action, goes through him. Azrial was the Lieutenant. She was skilled at commanding from the frontlines whereas Michael preferred doing things from behind the lines.”

“Bastard wasn’t willing to get his hands dirty?”

Dean snapped the question and to Sam’s surprise, Castiel chuckled. It seemed to take Bobby and Rowen by surprise as well because both men sat up a bit straighter, giving Castiel questioning looks. The angel seemed to understand they wanted answers and smirked slightly.

“He never _had_ too. Not with Azrial on the frontline. It just wasn’t needed and after her death, the only problem really left that needed Michael’s attention was Lucifer and he dealt with it swiftly.” 

“I’m surprised she didn’t end up saddled with some stupid nickname the way you’re talking about her.”

Dean chuckled as he made his statement but Castiel’s eyes shone with amusement as he looked at Dean, and Sam had a feeling Dean was about to eat his words.

“The God Spear.”

Castiel’s words echoed in the room and for a moment there was absolute silence. Bobby and Rowen exchanged a loaded look but Sam didn’t pay it any mind, he was too busy staring at Castiel like he’d grown a second head. Dean wasn’t much better mouthing silently until he finally managed to get a few words out.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“She was called The God Spear. Heaven’s final solution. If Azrial entered the battlefield it meant death. Fitting given her station, isn’t it?”

“Jesus Cas, and you served her?”

“A long time ago. She died shortly after Cain killed Abel. At least that’s what we’d all been led to believe.”

Castiel didn’t sound as confident now, and Sam could see that Bobby and Rowen had quickly picked up on it. 

“Could she have lied about who she was? If everyone thought she died-”

“We didn’t think. We saw the results”

Castiel’s snarled statement cut off Rowen’s question and Sam winced as the exorcist's jaw snapped shut at the angel’s venomous reply. Castiel seemed to have reached his breaking point, and started ranting about the situation. 

“We saw where she died, and Raphael was able to give us her last words. Lucifer may have denied it, but how else was Azrial struck down with Michael’s spear when we all saw him fighting when she was killed? Now she shows up after all these years working with a nobody _demon_. She’s soiling herself by associating with him. She’s working with the scum of Hell instead of coming home!”

Castiel’s voice shook and Sam couldn’t tell if it was from anger or confusion. Dean stood up walking over to the angel and placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. Castiel took a deep breath but didn’t speak up again and Dean shot Bobby a look that had the older hunter clearing his throat.

“Azrial’s obviously who she claims to be, so let’s put that aside. Castiel, how do you think we should act around her? I’d rather not end up on the wrong side of a pissy archangel.”

Bobby’s question seemed to soothe some of the tension in Castiel’s shoulders, and Dean was able to sit back down though he didn’t move far from the angel. 

“I don’t know. I could tell you what she was like, but she’s obviously not the same. I could never see her fraternizing with a demon like she is now.”

“I think Cas has a point. Is there any way we can separate her and Crowley? Could really do without that smug bastard’s constant snarking. Any ideas, Rowen?”

The exorcist tilted his head at Dean’s question and spoke slowly, obviously not wanting to upset Castiel again. 

“I wouldn’t recommend trying to separate them, especially since she specified that you leave this demon alone if you wanted her help.”

Rowen’s statement didn’t seem to settle well, but the exorcist pressed on. He turned to Castiel and met the angel’s gaze without any hesitation.

“You asked why Azrial would _soil_ herself by working with Crowley. I think you’ll find that she's simply fulfilling her divine purpose.” 

Sam blinked in confusion not understanding where Rowen was going with his statement.

Castiel frowned as he eyed the exorcist. “I don’t understand.”

The admission was short and a bit gruff for the angel, but Rowen didn’t seem to mind. 

“Angels were created to watch after humanity by God, were they not?”

“Well, yes. That is what our purpose became once humanity was created.”

Castiel’s voice was hesitant as he responded to Rowen’s question and the man pushed on.

“What are demons if not the worst of humanity? Those most in need of an angel’s care and possibly redemption. Crowley is nothing more than a corrupted and damaged _human_ soul. Can you fault your sister for doing her duty?”

Sam stared at Rowen trying to comprehend what the man had just done. Castiel looked like someone had slapped him and Dean was staring wide-eyed at Rowen who didn’t look at all fazed. Bobby seemed amused, but remained silent. Castiel opened his mouth but it took several seconds for him to speak.

“I hadn’t considered such a viewpoint.”

Castiel’s voice was distant and Sam winced as he realized he’d likely be seeing the angel drunk again. Sam noted that Dean wasn’t much better and winced as that mental bill totaled up. 

“I think Cas and Dean need a minute. Bobby, are there any errands you need done?”

The hunter hummed and stood up and grabbed a shortlist off the table and handed it to Sam. It seemed to be a few odds and ends, but mostly a beer run and Sam shot Bobby a grateful look.

“Alright guys, let’s take a breather. We can finish this up later.”

Sam stood up, and despite his shock Dean quickly followed and pulled Castiel up with him. The angel seemed to be reeling from Rowen’s revelation, and Sam wondered how long it would take for the surprise to melt into another rant. He wanted to get the angel on his way to being drunk before then. 

**Line Break**

Bobby watched the boys leave with mixed emotions. When he heard the door shut he turned to his friend.

“You gonna tell me what the hell that was about?”

Rowen snorted as he stood up stretching as he walked over to the desk and picked up a book. 

“Not sure I follow.”

“Don’t start with me, Rowen. That stunt you just pulled with Castiel; what was it about?”

Rowen rolled his eyes and turned toward him with a small smirk. Bobby really should have known better. The exorcist never did anything without reason and this was no exception. 

“I simply pointed out that perhaps Azrial was doing her duty. Is that so bad?”

“You don’t actually believe that.”

There was no question in Bobby’s voice, and Rowen chuckled, making it clear that the hunter was right.

“Of course not, but I also don’t care about _why_ Azrial’s working with this demon. I care about you all getting out alive though, and she’s your best bet. I’m also dying to pick her brain about angelic lore.”

“You can be a real bastard sometimes, ya know that?”

“All the best people are, Bobby. Would you rather I let Castiel continue down the path he’s on and likely cause an incident when he tries to smite Crowley for doing something he found inappropriate or a threat?”

Bobby huffed but didn’t respond. The man was right but that didn’t make it any easier. Dean hadn’t looked much better at the alternative that Rowen had painted, and he knew Castiel and Dean were likely heading straight to a bar. There was only so much your world view could be upset in one day before you turned to the bottle instead of trying to deal with it. 

“Come help me move some stuff to the panic room, ya bastard. It’s the least you can do after that stunt.”

**Line Break**

“Think they made it back yet?”

The lazy question had Crowley looking up from his book to the archangel lounging in the armchair across from him. Azrial was sprawled out akin to a cat, her legs draped over the arm of the chair as she curled into the corner of it. Her eyes were shut as she relaxed and she was clearly enjoying the calm before the storm. The scent of blood still clung to her, but he didn’t particularly mind. Coupled with the soft scent of rain and moonflower, it was a nice reminder that the angel was in the room. It would take time to adapt to having her nearby again, but this was the least of the things he had to acclimate to.

“I’d assume so. It’s been three days.”

Azrial hummed in response but didn’t bother to respond further. Crowley shut his book and set it aside as he spoke, “Are you thinking we should head over to their little safe house?”

“Sure, you do that,” Azrial murmured in response as she stretched out her legs further causing a small pop and a satisfied sigh from the archangel. Crowley rolled his eyes, but got up shooting the woman a look.

“You’re as lazy as I remember.”

Her eyes opened and Azrial’s lips quirked at his annoyed comment.

“Not when it matters. I’ll be right behind you. I just need to put my shoes on, so don’t piss them off. I have no desire to get shot.”

Crowley snorted and turned making his way toward the door of the safe house they were in. He threw over his shoulder, “Maybe getting shot would light a fire under your arse.”

“Cute. How bout I light a fire under yours and see if you keep that tone?”

“You’d have to catch me first, darling.”

Azrial snorted and Crowley smirked slightly at the sense of amusement rolling off the angel as he walked out the door. He was just about to leave as Azrial called out, “I could catch you if wanted to, Crowley. There is just a distinct lack of want.”

Crowley couldn’t help his parting quip and purposely turned to look into amused cobalt eye.,

“Says the woman who kept my favorite drink at her wet bar for _three years_.”

He didn’t wait for a response but Crowley did catch the flash of annoyance in her eyes as he got the last word in. It lacked any real heat, and her small smirk made it clear Azrial was quite content with the score as it was.

It didn’t mean she wouldn’t try and even it later, and he looked forward to her attempt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a foreword to the upcoming chapters: You will start to see various CW and TW posted at the beginning of the chapter. Please, take them seriously. This story is going to flirt with the line between M and E the further down the line we go, and I don't want anyone to be hurt in any way by the content.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos, I'll see you lovelies next Saturday.


	8. Don't Lose Your Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No TW/CW this chapter.

_December 11, 2009_

Rowen frowned at the sound of a door opening above him. He turned to Bobby and asked, “Would the boys be back already?”

Bobby frowned and shook his head as he set the box down in the panic room.

“Knowing Dean’s liver and Castiel’s tolerance they won’t be back for hours.”

Rowen frowned as he stared up at the ceiling in thought. After a few moments, a soft, barely-there, smell of sulfur hit his nose. If it weren’t for his years in the field he wouldn’t have noticed it at all and given that Bobby still seemed calm the hunter hadn’t noticed either. 

“I think our mysterious allies just arrived.”

“Think so?”

Rowen taped his nose and Bobby’s frown deepened as he looked up at the ceiling with a glare. Rowen doubted the man appreciated anyone, let alone a demon, sauntering into his house as if they owned it. Now that he was focusing on it, Rowen could only pick up on one set of footsteps above them. Had the archangel not arrived alongside her demonic ally? That was interesting and threw up a lot of questions.

“I’ll head upstairs. Back me up if it sounds like something went wrong?”

“When doesn’t shit go wrong around you?”

The muttered question made Rowen chuckle as he slowly walked up the stairs from the basement. Bobby hung out near the landing and the exorcist could feel the wary gaze at his back. Rowen pushed open the door to the basement, leaving it slightly cracked as he gazed around the kitchen. He didn’t see anyone, and he found himself focusing on every sound in the old house. It had taken years, and more than a little blood and warding, to become this attuned to the demons he fought against. The lack of overt presence was putting him on edge as he quietly made his way toward the living room. Rowen found himself staring at the well dressed back of a being he knew was demonic, but still couldn’t sense more than a trickle of energy from. The scent of sulfur was stronger, but nowhere near what he expected and Rowen had to shove aside the traitorous thought that perhaps this demon wasn’t overly powerful. 

Thinking like that would get him killed, and he very much enjoyed living.

“You know, most people knock before entering a home.”

Rowen kept his voice level and didn’t let any of the hostility he felt bleed through. The demon’s shoulders tensed slightly but he didn’t rush to turn around from where he was reading the titles of some of Bobby’s shelved books.

“I did knock, and I received no response. I don’t like to be kept waiting so I showed myself in.”

Alarm bells flared to life at the soft but deadly accent that rolled over the room. It may have been a decade ago but he knew that damn voice. He cursed himself for not recognizing the name when it was first mentioned by the Winchesters, but he’d always been better at recognizing faces and voices than names. As the well-dressed demon turned toward him Rowen couldn’t help but smirk at the shock that flashed through dark eyes.

“Let you out of Hell early on good behavior, Crowley?”

The words were out of his mouth before Rowen could think better of it and he couldn’t help the slight snarl as he said the demon’s name. Dark eyes flashed to murderous red and before Rowen could fully process what was happening Crowley’s hand snapped forward with a yell.

“You fucking Vatican dog!”

It was only years of dealing with demons, and warding courtesy of the Vatican library, that kept Rowen alive as he was thrown painfully into the adjacent wall. Suddenly he could feel Crowley’s power, and it was a suffocating force as the demon kept him pinned against the wall. Furious red eyes flashed with surprise, and despite feeling winded Rowen ground out, “You really think I wouldn’t be shielded from some of the worst demonic nastiness?”

The question was snarled despite the immense effort it took to speak, and the fury in Crowley’s eyes seemed to grow. His hand tightened and Rowen gasped for breath as he felt his throat constrict. The warding tattooed onto his body wasn’t made to stand up to a demon of Crowley’s caliber, and it was being sorely tested as the furious demon did his damnedest to slowly suffocate him. Rowen caught a movement behind Crowley and a moment later a shotgun blast sounded. It caused the demon to lose his concentration and sent Rowen tumbling to the ground. The exorcist took a needy gulp of air as Crowley turned on his friend with a downright murderous look. Without thinking, Rowen pulled his Magnum and aimed it at Crowley’s back with an audible click as he pulled the hammer back to ready his shot.

Truce or not, he wasn’t going to let the demon lift a damn finger against Bobby.

Crowley turned his attention back to him at the click and narrowed his once more dark eyes at him, “And what do you expect to do with that, dog?”

“You know damn well what this gun can do to your kind, demon.”

Crowley laughed darkly as he waved his hand dismissively. “Even if that gun can do what the Vatican claims, you wouldn’t dare use it against me. Not with the lives of your precious friends and countless innocents at stake.”

“Try me, you two-bit salesman.”

Crowley opened his mouth to respond just as a powerful voice cut across the tense room, “Enough, Crowley.”

Something flashed through the demon’s eyes that Rowen couldn’t place at the stern feminine voice. The steady fall of boots had Rowen looking toward the kitchen where Crowley was facing with a raised eyebrow.

“Always ruining my fun, darling.”

“Get your rocks off when the world isn’t in danger of imploding, Crowley.”

There was no room for argument in the cool tone and Rowen watched as the woman walked into the room completely ignoring the mess. Her sharp cobalt eyes landed on him, and for a moment he found himself wanting to hide from the soul-piercing gaze. Her dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders. If not for the inhumanly powerful aura she was emanating she could have passed as a hunter, decked in ragged blue jeans and a long-sleeve black top. The only strange part of her get-up was the two thick slits in the back of the top that Rowen caught sight of as she walked up to Crowley.

“He started it. You know how Vatican exorcists are.”

The easy comment from Crowley made Rowen growl softly as he took his finger off the hammer and holstered his gun. The woman’s eyes flashed with annoyance and much to Rowen’s shock her hand connected with the side of Crowley’s head despite her shorter stature. The demon scowled down at her and his eyes flashed red for a moment. Rowen carefully watched the interaction as she didn’t give an inch, glaring up at the demon.

“I doubt he started it, given his position. I’m in no mood to deal with some petty revenge, Crowley. Kill him when the world is saved if you want, but not a moment before.”

Her snarled order made Rowen wince as he pushed himself off the floor. He shot a look at Bobby who seemed furious at the comment but seemed to quash his anger at the realization she had still called off the demon despite her lack of care for their lives later.

“Azrial, I’m guessin’?”

Bobby’s snapped question had the woman pulling her cool gaze from Crowley who huffed slightly but seemed to agree with her. She tilted her head at Bobby’s question and spoke with relative politeness.

“I am, and you are? I was simply informed to come here, not who actually owned the house.”

Her voice was relatively neutral, but Azrial seemed to be eyeing Bobby with a mildly interested look. It was like the hunter was something shiny and new that the archangel had never seen before and wanted to examine closer. Rowen wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but hopefully, it would prove harmless for his friend. Bobby seemed inclined to brush off the look, or perhaps the hunter hadn’t noticed it as he responded.

“Bobby Singer. I was told you would be helpin’ us with our apocalypse problem.”

There was no question to be found in Bobby’s blunt statement, and the archangel hummed softly. Azrial shot Crowley a look, and Rowen watched as a whole conversation seemed to pass between the two in just a few seconds. This was an interesting turn of events. He hadn’t expected there to be a substantial relationship between the beings, but it was clear they were close enough to pick up on the subtle cues the other would give off.

Rowen couldn’t help but think that took credibility away from the archangel despite the line he’d fed Castiel earlier. 

“That’s the plan.”

Azrial’s easy response was accented by a slight toss of her head to get her long hair out of her face. It didn’t help much and the archangel sighed in aggravation but didn’t say anything else. Crowley seemed inclined to stay near her now that the archangel was present, and Rowen leveled a distrustful look at the demon. Before anything could be said Bobby waved the two in.

“Well, ya better sit down. Maybe start explainin’ why you seem so keen to help us all of a sudden.”

Azrial took the offered seat and sat on the arm of the chair. It was strange, but then Rowen caught the questioning look the archangel sent to Crowley. The demon rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall clearly not wanting to sit amongst them. Azrial frowned for a moment but quickly fell from the arm of the chair into the seat without hesitation. Rowen scrunched his brow at the action as he sat in the chair in front of Bobby’s desk. Bobby sat behind his desk, and Rowen knew it was partially because he kept a gun strapped to the underside of the heavy piece of furniture. Being close to a weapon after what Crowley just pulled seemed to ease some of the man’s tension. 

“This is the first time I could help. Sorry if it wasn’t soon enough for your liking.”

Azrial kept her voice polite but there was a hint of sarcasm in her apology that seemed to be asking for a confrontation. Rowen met her gaze with an annoyed look but the archangel raised an eyebrow in response. It was clear Azrial felt she was the one in control, and maybe she was right. Rowen wasn’t willing to give her the acknowledgment though without a fight, though. Crowley’s cool voice quickly cut through the room.

“I thought priests were supposed to be virtuous? Stop eyefucking the archangel, _Father Anderson_.” 

Rowen turned a vicious glare on the demon and snapped back ignoring the small snort of amusement from the archangel.

“You’re very mouthy considering the last two times we’ve met, I exorcised you, _demon_.” 

Rowen caught Azrial sitting up a bit straighter, and there was a heavy amusement in the archangel’s voice as she asked, “Twice? I thought he only got you once back in ‘98, Crowley?”

The demon growled low in his throat and shot Azrial a warning look before turning back to him. Rowen could feel the furious glare and knew if Azrial wasn’t there, and the world wasn’t ending, Crowley would have ripped his heart out already. 

“Oh, he never told you?”

Rowen shot the question at Azrial who simply tilted her head with the barest of smiles on her lips. It seemed she was fine with Crowley getting his ego bruised. Rowen wondered how far he could push and decided now was a good time to test it.

“No, he didn’t.”

“Azrial.”

Crowley growled her name in warning, but the archangel didn’t seem at all bothered by the silent threat. Rowen pushed on not bothering to stem his amusement at the situation. Looking back at the first time he had been lucky, and Crowley likely knew that which only irritated the powerful demon.

“It was one of my first jobs alone. Shortly after my seventeenth birthday.”

The sound Azrial made could only be a swolled laugh. Her hand covered her mouth and she turned away clearly not wanting to burst out laughing. The furious growl from Crowley didn’t seem to help the archangel’s condition in the slightest, though she did shoot Crowley a sympathetic look. Rowen’s eyes narrowed at the slightest shift in Crowley’s eyes at the look Azrial gave him. There wasn’t the pure hostility and hate that Crowley had directed at him. For a moment the demon’s gaze held a begrudging acceptance at the archangel’s laughter but it was gone the moment Crowley felt Rowen’s gaze. The demon leveled a glare that would see lesser men fleeing, and Bobby sighed in annoyance.

“Am I gonna have to shoot you again?”

The warning in Bobby’s dry question was palpable and Rowen watched as the amusement melted off Azrial’s face. It was like flicking a light switch. The moment Crowley was in _physical_ danger the archangel seemed to draw the line. Crowley huffed and gave Bobby a mocking smile.

“You wouldn’t manage a second time, Robert.”

Bobby frowned, but before he could say anything Rowen cut him off.

“I’m running 2 - 0. Keep it up and I’ll just exorcise your sleazy demonic ass back to Hell.” 

Now there was no denying it. Azrial’s gaze had become almost as furious as Crowley’s. Her’s was simply more controlled than the demon’s who shot back without missing a beat.

“Cute threat, doggy, but you need us. You won’t lift a hand against me so long as Lucifer walks free. Even after that, I’m protected because the big bad Vatican exorcist couldn’t nut up and handle the apocalypse to spare his friends from working with a demon.” 

Crowley’s tone dripped with condescension and confidence. Bobby let out a low hiss of annoyance at the demon’s comment, and even Rowen found himself coming up short. For a moment he considered Crowley’s words but quickly shoved them aside. Even if the demon was right, now wasn’t the time to think about it. He wouldn’t give Crowley the pleasure of getting the last word. Rowen ignored the growing irritation from the silent archangel as he snapped back.

“You call me a dog, yet you circle the skirt of a being who’d rather see _you_ dead like an obedient little bitch.”

His comment seemed to have a profound effect on both creatures, and Rowen realized a moment too late that he’d pushed the tempered archangel to far. Azrial looked at him with disgust and for a moment Rowen wondered if he should have left the archangel out of the barrage. Crowley raised his hand and it was clear what the demon’s next move was going to be. Azrial was on her feet, a hand around Crowley’s wrist, just as Bobby pulled his pistol and aimed it at the demon.

The archangel hissed, “We’re leaving.”

There was a heavy finality to her statement, and Crowley yanked his wrist free of her grip. Bobby looked a mixed between relieved and worried at the announcement and softly asked, “Is our deal off?”

Azrial looked over at Bobby and there was none of the curiosity that had existed in her deep blue eyes before. Her gaze was cold and for a moment there was a flash of wings behind her and Rowen swallowed at the confirmation that the being in front of them was at least an angel. 

“No. You can thank Sam and Dean for that. They were much more well behaved. I didn’t expect three grown men to act like catty bitches at a tea party.”

She growled softly, and it took Rowen a moment to realize she was calling Crowley out just as much as she was he and Bobby. 

“Should we contact you when the boys are back?”

Bobby’s question was firm, but the man was clearly walking on eggshells to appease the furious archangel. Rowen looked away as he remembered the hope that had painted his friend's face when they heard an archangel was willing to help them. Bobby didn’t trust Azrial, but he needed her on their side. Bobby would do just about anything for his boys, and Rowen realized if he had pushed a moment more, he may have ruined the truce for his friend. 

“That’s fine. You can call Crowley, Dean has his card.”

With that final terse statement, she turned toward the clearly fuming demon who hadn’t moved his murderous gaze from Rowen. Rowen glared back and wished he could take another shot at exorcising the bastard but Aziral snarled.

“We’re leaving.”

The repeated command had the demon turning toward him and growling softly,

“And why do I have to listen to you, darling? I’m-”

Azrial seemed to have enough and before Crowley could finish his statement Azrial grabbed his shoulder harshly and the two vanished with the soft sound of flapping wings. Rowen stared at the spot where the two beings had once stood for several moments before Bobby let out an exhausted sigh.

“That was a damn disaster.”

“Not entirely.”

Rowen whispered the comment but his friend snapped back, “Oh? You almost got killed three God damn times in that conversation that I could count. Do you have no self-preservation?”

Rowen met Bobby’s furious, yet concerned, gaze, and did his best to justify his actions. 

“We found out that this isn’t a case of one of them being blackmailed to help. For whatever reason, both are genuine in their commitment to fighting this battle. Otherwise, I _would_ be dead.”

“That’s all well and good but it wasn't worth gambling your damn life.”

“Maybe not, but the other part was.”

Bobby stared at him like he was the world’s stupidest man but remained silent as he waited for an explanation. Rowen couldn’t help the small smirk as he delivered his assessment.

“They’re genuine business partners. Hell, I’d even call them _friends_ , though I doubt they’d agree. You couldn’t ask for better news.”

Bobby was silent for several moments before letting out an exhausted sigh and he dropped his head into his hands. Rowen slowly walked up to his friend and placed a comforting hand on Bobby’s shoulder. 

The hunter didn’t look up and asked softly, “You can’t be suggesting we play them against each other when this is all over. They’d kill us.”

“No. I’m saying that whatever deal those boys agreed to may actually be the truth. Once this is over, let them fade away. The four of you mean nothing to them.”

“Even Castiel?”

There was a tremble of regret in Bobby’s voice at the question and Rowen winced. He’d done exactly what he’d accused Bobby of earlier and forgotten that the other man was an angel for a moment. An angel who’d had a close relationship with the archangel who’d just proven she’d choose to protect a demon over humans.

“I don’t know.”

“But you think so.”

Bobby’s statement made Rowen remain silent. He knew his silence would cue Bobby in but he didn’t have the heart to voice his thoughts to the hunter. Rowen tightened his grip on Bobby’s shoulder in response to the sharp exhale from the exhausted hunter. 

“She’s volatile.”

Bobby pointed out the obvious in a bid to get back to safer waters, and Rowen let go of his shoulder as he nodded in agreement,

“She is, but she clearly has a tight rein on her temper. Only started to lose her patience when I threatened to exorcise Crowley again.”

“He looked murderous at your last comment.”

The statement seemed to hold a subtle question, but Rowen didn’t have the answer. It could simply be the insinuation that the demon was bowing and scraping to the archangel for protection but something told him it went deeper than that. Given the obvious - to him anyway - friendship between the two, maybe it was the insinuation that Azrial would ever treat him as anything less than her equal. 

“We’ll have to wait and see.”

His answer was met by a soft hum before Bobby snapped, “Don’t pull that shit again. You’re giving me grey hair.”

“You mean more than you already have?”

The joke seemed to push some much-needed life into the room and Bobby shoved him away with a slight smile.

“Fuck off, and start cleaning up this damn mess you caused. She may have thought it was Crowley, but I have a feeling it was your damn mouth that got you thrown into a wall.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Rowen couldn’t keep the pleased tone out of his voice at Bobby’s snort of laughter, and the man got up to start picking up the scattered books. Come their next meeting, Rowen would have gone through the events at least one more time. He’d also make sure to ignore Crowley and treat Azrial with respect. Hopefully, it would throw the two beings and also give him a chance to fish for more information. 


	9. Don’t Threaten Me With a Good Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, lovelies. I'm about to earn that M Rating.   
> CW: Sex, Arguing, Cursing
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> A Note: Please remember that Azrial and Crowley aren't human. There will be behaviors from them, and later others, that aren't considered "acceptable" by human standards. For example, don't go chucking bottles at people to prove a point. I will only put this warning here once. The story does a good job of bringing up the differences between humanity and inhuman characters. I don't want to beat a dead horse.

_December 11, 2009_

Crowley was ready to bite Azrial’s head off when he realized she’d dragged him from the house mid-sentence. As they landed though she shoved him into the wall dividing the small living space from the two bedrooms of their safe house. It left him winded for a moment, and Crowley found himself pinned under a furious silver gaze. Normally he’d try and pacify her fury, but he was too pissed to bother.

“What the _hell_ , Azrial? How _dare_ you toss me around.”

He snarled the question but Azrial was immediately in his face, and despite being four inches shorter she somehow managed to make it feel like he was being shouted down at.

“Oh, don’t even start with me, Crowley. How could you be so fucking stupid?”

Crowley bristled at the spat question and met her furious silver glare with his own.

“Stupid? What the hell are you on about?”

“Really? Being purposely obtuse doesn’t suit you, Crowley.”

He narrowed his eyes on her, and when he shoved her shoulder to get some distance between them the archangel stubbornly didn’t move. Azrial’s hand moved to his shoulder and shoved him harder against the wall. She dug her nails into his shoulder and he could feel the anger and aggravation rolling off her as she didn’t give an inch. He snapped back ignoring the pressure on his shoulder, it wasn’t enough to hurt him anyway.

“Why don’t you explain how I was being obtuse, _darling_ , instead of snipping at me?”

Azrial’s eyes narrowed at the backhanded use of his normal name for her, but she hissed back without hesitation.

“You played right into Anderson’s hands, and you revealed far more than you ever should have. It makes me wonder if I should let you anywhere near the operation with Lucifer.”

It felt like Azrial had thrown gasoline over the already raging fire of his temper with her last comment. Like _hell_ he was letting her face off against Lucifer with nothing but a ragtag group of hunters who’d take any opportunity to kill his ace if they had the chance.

“The situation was well in hand, Azrial. You won’t be going anywhere near that psychotic brother of yours without my help.”

Azrial bristled and her nails dug deeper into his shoulder for a moment before she pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I won’t? Like you could stop me, Crowley. The situation was out of your hands as soon as he mentioned your second exorcism. Something I never should have found out about from a freaking exorcist.”

“We agreed _never_ to speak of our past. That happened before you came along, as you damn well know. If you’re going to hold that against me, then why don’t you tell me about what you were doing in Scotland back in the 1600s?”

The question caused the archangel to freeze, and for a moment there was a heavy silence over the room.

Azrial’s voice was deadly quiet as she whispered, “Don’t you _dare_ bring that up, Crowley, or I swear-”

“What will you actually do, Azrial? We’ve done this song and dance more than once.” 

Crowley couldn’t keep the mocking tone out of his voice and with a scream of frustration Azrial grabbed the nearest object, a vase, and chucked it at the wall. A flash of satisfaction lit her face as it shattered to pieces and Crowley rolled his eyes. He was used to this. When Azrial’s temper finally snapped it was always explosive, but he put that down to her having such a long fuse. Normally he’d be fine with her breaking whatever she wanted but the vase was actually expensive, even for him. One of the few pieces he’d moved from his manor in preparation of going against Lucifer.

“Control your temper, Azrial.”

Again, he couldn’t keep the smug tone out of his voice and he instantly regretted it. Their eyes met and Crowley could see the challenging flash in her silver eyes. She strode up to the table and grabbed a half-finished crystal tumbler of his favorite scotch with a smirk on her lips.

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

Crowley stepped away from the wall, and his now red eyes narrowed on the serenely smiling archangel who was loosely holding the expensive scotch.

“Whoops.”

She sang the word as she dropped the crystal tumbler to the floor and before Crowley could react, it shattered. He let out a yell of frustration and launched at her, but Azrial stepped aside with an easy familiarity. How often had they been here? Enough that it was almost nice to fall back into the old pattern with the world burning around them. Crowley narrowed his eyes on her tense shoulders as he finally put two and two together.

This wasn’t about what happened with Anderson, not really.

Sure, Azrial was annoyed about it, but if anything, her issue was with Anderson more than him. The fury, anger, and aggravation were from what was coming more than what had occurred. Crowley actually felt foolish for not having realized it sooner. The archangel twisted her body grabbing a new bottle of his scotch and Crowley decided come hell or high water that bottle was going to be saved from the archangel’s temper.

“Azrial, put the bottle down.”

Crowley pushed as much warning into his voice as he could. Azrial just smirked as her grip tightened on the bottle and she swung it back and forth carelessly.

“Or what, Crowley? What are you really going to do? After all, we’ve done this song and dance many times before.”

Crowley hissed in annoyance as she turned his words back on him. Azrial’s smirk became a predatory smile and she lifted the bottle, her intent clear. Crowley didn’t give her a chance and launched at her, and to his surprise, managed to pin the normally agile archangel against the door leading to one of the bedrooms. It was the final piece of proof he needed that she was off her game. Azrial gasped as her back connected with the door and glared up at him. Just as she was about to let go of the bottle out of spite, he pinned the hand holding it above her head, his fingers gripping her wrist hard enough to bruise despite the archangel’s durability. Damn it, he wasn’t losing that bottle.

The sound that fell from Azrial’s lips made him forget all about the bottle of scotch in her hand as his eyes fell to her startled, silver gaze.

It was a cross between a soft moan and exhale, and it took him by surprise. Crowley tightened his grip around Azrial’s wrist once more. He needed to know if it was a one-off or not. The same sound ripped from her throat, and her head fell back against the door with a frustrated huff as Crowley realized he wasn’t going to let this go. He used his free hand to grab the bottle from Azrial’s hand ignoring the mild glare from the archangel as he banished it safely back to the table before fully focusing on her.

“Crowley, don’t start something you can’t finish.”

Her voice was low, and there was a dark promise behind her words that had him throwing all caution to the wind. Crowley grabbed her chin, jerking it up to look at him and Azrial swallowed thickly. It was clear by the look in her eyes that she wasn’t going to stop him.

How many times had they been here, and one of them had backed off before this tension could build? How many arguments had left them this close before one of them stormed off?

More than he could count, and truthfully, he’d never minded it. It was a pattern he had grown accustomed to and they’d both been careful never to cross the line of partners into something more. Something that would muddy the waters of what was acceptable, and what wasn’t.

“Heh. Knew you wouldn’t do shit. Let go of me, Crowley.”

The mocking tone had Crowley growling, and he tightened his grip on her wrist. Without warning, Crowley crashed his lips against hers relishing the sharp gasp from the archangel below him that allowed him to deepen the kiss as he kept a firm grip on her wrist. Azrial’s free hand immediately wrapped around his neck dragging him closer as she tried to dominate the kiss. Crowley snarled and nipped her lip causing Azrial to moan softly as he pressed her tightly against the wall, unwilling to give up control. His hand fell to her waist and he quickly undid her jeans. His hand dipped past the waist of her pants and he dug his fingers into her hips. Azrial’s hips jolted forward, and she broke the kiss with a satisfied moan as she moved her free hand to the doorknob at her side. 

Crowley grunted as the door opened with a click and swung out behind the archangel who stepped back due to the lack of support and caused both of them to tumble to the floor. Azrial landed on her back with a grunt of pain, and she tried to push herself up. Crowley didn’t give her the chance to move and used his position to shove her hips down, and quickly yanked off her boots. It took several precious seconds, and Crowley had to shove Azrial’s hips down again as she squirmed against his grip. He yanked the jeans off next, making sure to pull her underwear off with them. He was on his knees now, and Azrial finally sat up slightly. Her back was against the frame of the bed, and Crowley quickly moved forward and pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the side. Azrial’s heated gaze met his, and his fingers dragged up her bare legs as he dipped his head down dragging his teeth against her jugular. Her throaty moan was music to his ears, and he dragged his nails down Azrial’s inner thighs causing the archangel to squirm against him. 

“Fucking tease.”

Her voice dripped with lust as she hissed out the words as his fingers ghosted a breath away from clit. Crowley pulled his head away from her neck, and started down at the archangel hungrily.

“I’m the tease? No, I think that title belongs to you, darling.”

Azrial huffed, but it caught in her throat as he dragged his fingers teasingly against her entrance before quickly pulling away. The glare he received would have lesser men quickly bowing to her desires, but Crowley could care less if the stubborn angel was sexually frustrated. He was going to take his time. He stood up, pulling her with him before shoving her back onto the bed. Azrial landed against the mattress and pushed herself up with her forearms.

"You're overdressed."

There was a subtle demand in her statement and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"I thought an angel would know how to ask nicely for something."

Her eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to respond before her expression morphed from mild annoyance to sheer innocence. 

"You're right."

The words were purred in one of the most convincingly innocent and honeyed tones he'd heard in a long time.

God have mercy on his nonexistent soul. 

Azrial pushed herself forward until she was kneeling on the edge of the bed. She reached out and grabbed his sleeve pulling him closer until she was able to bury her face in his neck. He could feel her breath against his skin, but she didn't do anything more than gently nuzzle his neck as her hands moved to wrap around his waist. Then her voice ghosted against his ear, "Will you please undress?"

Damn her for somehow making that question sound desperate. 

He felt her fingers ghosting under his shirt as she continued to undo the buttons. She gave a sharp nip at his neck making him bite back a groan as she pulled away to focus on the buttons that seemed to be giving her trouble if her slight pout was anything to go by. The last button finally gave and she looked up to meet his eyes, and he was taken aback by the desire and need he saw shining there. There was still a part of him waiting for Azrial to back away, to come to her senses and realize she didn't want this. 

She opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off with a demanding kiss, his fingers lacing through her hair and pulling her toward him. His other hand came to rest on her back and he dragged his nails harshly down the middle of her back causing the angel to moan into the kiss. He took the chance to deepen the kiss and was mildly surprised she didn't fight to dominate the kiss again but rather gave into him. Crowley felt her hands at his waist and could feel her fingers trying to undo his dress pants while still focusing on the kiss. The angel broke the kiss with an aggravated growl but he moved from her mouth to her neck with ease, biting down on the pale skin between her collarbone and neck. Azrial gave a hiss of pleasure as her eyes fell shut. He felt the button finally loosen signaling that the angel won her battle with the fabric. Her cool fingers dragging against his hips as she pushed the pants down had him releasing her neck to shove her back onto the bed. She dug her nails harshly into his hip to protest the movement before letting herself fall back onto the bed. Her eyes bore into him as he quickly rid himself of the pants and also let his shirt fall to the floor.

"You seem to be taking your sweet time,” Azrial huffed.

Crowley smirked as he got into the bed, placing a knee next to the archangel's hip as he leaned down to capture her lips in another bruising kiss. He felt one of her legs wrap around his hip and pull him closer and he broke the kiss and grabbed her jaw firmly and tilted it to the side as he nipped harshly at her neck shutting his eyes as she rocked her hips forward with a needy whine. The position allowed Azrial to bury her face into his shoulder and he could feel her sharp intake of breath as he rocked his hips teasingly forward. 

"You're so demanding."

He whispered the statement against her jaw, taking a moment to get his thoughts in order as the smell of moonflower and rain began to suffocate him. Crowley dragged his teeth against her jugular as her arms came to rest around his neck. 

"You smell nice,” Azrial moaned into his neck, her nails digging into his shoulder blades.

She probably never intended for him to hear it given the dazed way it was breathed against his heated skin. He pulled back to look down at her and was mildly surprised to see half-lidded silver eyes staring back at him. A strange warmth filled him at seeing that, knowing she was so lost in the moment that her grace was at the forefront.

He sat up for a moment to pull himself further onto the bed dragging Azrial with him when a thought crossed his mind. He pulled her into a half-sitting position and ran his fingers lightly down her back causing the angel to shudder.

"Show me your wings."

It was phrased more like a demand than a request and Azrial just gave him a befuddled look, her eyes swimming with lust. Crowley dug his nails into the spot right above her tailbone and that seemed to have the words click in the angel’s mind. A moment later six black wings were splayed out behind her, though the main ones seemed intent on trying to wrap around. Azrial shifted in an attempt to stop them cocooning him going as far as to push the appendage down with a slightly embarrassed twitch of her lips.

"They have a mind of their own."

It was one hell of a sight. In all the years he'd known her he'd never seen an expression quite like that on her face. Her cheeks were flushed and she was clearly flustered by the, if he had to guess, instinctual actions of her body. A feral grin filled his face and Crowley quickly flipped the distracted angel onto her stomach, letting out an amused snort at the yelp from Azrial. She pushed herself back up but he pinned her shoulder to the bed using his seated position for leverage. He ran his free hand down her back, dragging his nails down the flesh between her wings. The black appendages seemed to flutter weakly before deciding to fall limp against the bed as the angel below him moaned. Azrial squirmed and once more tired to sit up. He dug his nails deeper into her back, enough to break the skin, and watched in mild fascination as she let out a strangled cry of pleasure. Azrial pulled her legs toward her chest, the movement meaning the angel was now on her hands and knees trembling in pleasure due to the overstimulation she was experiencing. 

"Beautiful."

He wasn't entirely sure where the thought came from, but it was true enough. Crowley shifted so he was kneeling behind her, and kept one hand against her shoulder, the other loosely tangling through her hair. In a swift movement, he buried himself inside her. Azrial cried out in pleasure at the feeling despite the lack of warning and he tightened the hand around her hair in response leaving the angel competently breathless as he began to move his hips. Her cries of pleasure were echoing through the small room and she was doing her best from the pinned position he had her in to meet each thrust, causing him to tighten his grip on her hair as he groaned in pleasure. The tips of Azrial's wings brushed against his side and he shuddered slightly at the unfamiliar sensation. The feathers seemed to carry a bit of her grace and it left the skin they touched warm. It was like standing next to a low burning fire rather than the furious sun he had learned to associate with other angels.

"Crowley,” Azrial breathed out his name in such a way it became a plea. 

Her arms were splayed in front of her, her nails digging into the dark sheets. Crowley released her hair and watched as Azrial let her face drop to the bed with a weak mewl. Her hair fell almost entirely to her right side leaving her neck exposed as she turned her head to take a needy breath. His hand brushed through the feathers that were brushing against his side and the sound that fell from her lips was like nothing he'd ever heard before, and her whole body seemed to jolt back at the gentle touch. Crowley groaned, his other hand moving from her shoulder to grip her hip. He dug his nails into the pale skin, and he could feel it break under his fingers. Carefully, he dragged his fingers through the black feathers again and the same addictive sound greeted his ears, but time accented by a needy whine when Azrial found she couldn't move. Crowley fell into a slow pace, hard deep thrusts coupled with running his fingers through the velvet feathers that were as warm as the rays of the summer sun under his fingers. 

Azrial's voice broke the silence, and he had to focus to try and figure out what she was saying. It took him a few moments to realize the lustful archangel had slipped into Enochian. He leaned down slightly, the shift causing Azrial to let out a strangled cry of pleasure. 

"I can't understand you, darling."

Azrial's labored breathing was the only verbal response he got from her. Crowley shifted back to his kneeling position, and with a strength, he didn't realize he possessed stopped moving inside the trembling archangel under him.

"Crowley. Move."

Despite her breathless voice, the demand held a mild heat. Crowley couldn't help but chuckle as he ghosted his fingers down her spine, watching in satisfaction as she shivered.

"I thought we already established that angels are polite?"

"Go fuck yourself."

The rebuttal was muttered in an exhausted, desperate, voice. Crowley smirked as he moved his hand from her hip back to her hair. He pulled it, causing Azrial to arc off the bed, and he leaned forward to brush his nose against her skin.

"I'll pass. This is much more satisfying,” he whispered against her neck.

Crowley could practically hear her heartbeat, though it was nothing more than her powerful grace thrumming in her chest, over the labored breathing. He moved his other arm to wrap around Azrial’s stomach, right below her breasts. It forced the archangel into a semi kneeling position, and he was easily able to nuzzle his face into her neck as she cried out at the forced shift in position. Crowley knew with the change in position she was unable to move and dragged his teeth against her jugular enjoying the shudder that ran down her body. 

"I hate you."

The statement was gasped out, and Crowley smirked, nipping at her ear.

"You adore me. You adore this."

Crowley gave one hard thrust and Azrial's head fell back against his shoulder as she cried out. His control was slipping by the moment though, and he needed to move this along. 

"Just ask nicely, darling."

There was the smallest huff from Azrial, her heavy breaths leaving him unsure if it was intentional or not.

"Please, stop teasing me and move."

The words were barely strung together but he smiled against her neck and removed his arm from her stomach, allowing her to press her torso back against the cool sheets.

"Your wish is my command."

Crowley couldn't keep the touch of smugness out of his voice, but given the scream of pleasure from the dazed archangel as he started an admittedly brutal pace, he doubted she cared. The next several minutes were a blur, but the moment Azrial cried out her release, he lost himself as well. Her wings had flared directly back and all six of them brushed against his skin. The wings falling flat against the bed moments later drew his attention back to the archangel sprawled beneath him, panting heavily as she tried desperately to catch her breath. His own body was feeling like a lead weight so he quickly pulled out of her, snorting at the whine that came from the body below him. Crowley carefully lifted the wings on the right side of her body and fell down onto the bed next to Azrial, doing his best to catch his breath. He wasn't surprised when three wings fell against his stomach and chest. He felt her pressed tightly against his side, and he had every intention of getting up once his body didn’t feel like putty. Crowley shut his eyes taking a steadying breath, as he focused on himself for a moment. He could still feel her grace clinging to his aura and he wondered if that was what had left him so winded. It had to be. No bout of sex could leave him this breathless and exhausted. No woman, not even Azrial, was that good.

That was his last thought before he drifted off into an unexpected, but very much needed nap.

**Line break**

_December 12, 2009_

Crowley woke slowly up and groaned softly. He felt relaxed and far less tense than he had in recent days. His eyes snapped open at the feeling of a weight on his arm. He quickly turned to see raven hair sprawled over his arm, and a soft, pale, buxom chest pressed tightly against his side.

What the bloody hell had he done?

Azrial let out a soft hum as she seemed to snuggle, perish the thought, closer to his body. He cursed softly as he tried to remove his arm, but it was a useless effort. The stubborn angel seemed to cling tighter to him, and it resulted in her nose being pressed tightly against his neck. Black wings were also intent on pulling him closer, and Crowley’s nose twitched as the feathers brushed against his face.

What did he do now?

He’d been so careful, so very very careful, never to find himself in this position with the archangel.

Had he thought about it? Of bloody course he had, what self-respecting demon wouldn’t? It hadn’t been a risk he’d been willing to take though. Azrial could be temperamental at times, and Crowley had the feeling the archangel would become territorial of him, had he attempted to bed her. 

Now he had, and despite the panic racing through his body part of him felt pride and satisfaction. 

But what did he do now?

He could leave, and when she came to him brush off the entire incident. It would be the wise thing to do. Go back to the status quo, and forget all that had happened.

Forget the feeling of her, the smell, the grace wrapping around him, and the way she screamed his name.

Crowley shut his eyes and gave an aggravated growl, just as there was a soft exhale from the angel pressed against him. 

He was far too selfish to forget what had occurred, and as much as Crowley could accuse Azrial of being territorial he was far worse. He knew she’d had other lovers over the years, they both had, and now the idea of her going to another left him slightly homicidal.

Correction, majorly homicidal.

His demonic nature quickly won out, and he dragged a hand through her raven hair as he enjoyed the feeling of her power pressed so close to him. Crowley hummed and decided that he’d follow her lead, for now. The archangel’s eyes opened at the touch and sleepy cobalt eyes peered up at him. He had a front-row seat as a myriad of emotions played through Azrial’s constantly expressive eyes. Shock, confusion, embarrassment, and finally acceptance were just the few he caught. 

“So,” her voice was slightly ragged, and Crowley felt a wave of satisfaction roll over him, “that was something.”

“Just something?”

His own voice was more a growl than normal, but the shudder that ran through the archangel had his gaze quickly turning hungry once more. 

“Something.”

The word was whispered as an open-ended question, and Crowley hummed as he realized Azrial was allowing him an out.

“You won’t engage Lucifer without me.”

Crowley growled the command and there was a flash of surprise in her eyes. Shel had clearly forgotten their argument. His command held a double meaning though, if she accepted it would be admitting far more than the fact he’d won the argument. Crowley could see the war in her eyes, but Azrial finally gave the slightest nod and murmured, “I won’t.”

Her fingers gripped his arm tightly at the promise, and Crowley smirked as he moved his hand from her hair to tilt her chin to kiss her. It was only a moment before he pulled back and spoke a breath from her lips.

“Good. We best prepare for speaking with that ragtag group of hunters once more.”

“Agreed.”

Azrial’s muttered agreement had the archangel pulling away, and he let her go. He watched as her wings vanished from his sight once more, and much to his surprise he found himself already planning on how to get her back in his bed as she dressed. 

This was certainly an interesting development, but somehow Crowley doubted he’d do it differently if given the chance. 


	10. Mice and Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings in this chapter.
> 
> I'm participating in Kinktober this year, though not every day! If you check out my profile I plan on posting some M and E rated shorts about many of the Supernatural characters. Day 2 is up now and features Azrial and Crowley.

_December 13, 2009_

Azrial landed outside Bobby Singer’s house moments before Crowley appeared at her side. She shot the demon a look before moving confidently toward the door despite her mind being a million miles away. What the _hell_ had she been thinking yesterday? Oh, that’s right. She _hadn’t_. Azrial sighed trying to shove the thoughts aside. She needed to _focus_. Now wasn’t the time to think about what happened yesterday, but it was hard to forget the feeling of Crowley’s hands on her body or the fact that the demon had refused to give an inch of control back one he’d gotten it. The fact she _enjoyed_ that Crowley hadn’t given an inch was something she didn’t want to contemplate currently.

Azrial shook her head with an aggravated sigh as she knocked against the door with far more force than needed.

“Something wrong, darling?”

Crowley’s voice ghosted against her neck as he leaned closer to her than strictly necessary, and she glared back at him for a moment.

“Don’t start,” she muttered.

“Really? That eager to start another _fight_?”

Azrial growled at the quiet amusement rolling off the demon. She’d wring his damn neck when they were alone if he continued to tease her. Still, Azrial did enjoy what had transpired between them, and a traitorous part of her brain was plotting ways for it to happen again. It was the only reason she’d conceded to Crowley’s command before they left the safe house. Why did her soft spot have to go to Crowley of all beings? It was asking for trouble, but she’d known that for decades now.

The door swinging open had Azrial refocusing on her surroundings, and she gave a polite nod to Bobby Singer who raised an eyebrow at the two of them. The hunter looked between them for a moment, and to her surprise smirked at them.

“Ya know, fucking away your problems isn’t actually a thing, right?”

Azrial’s eyes widened for a moment at the hunter’s blunt words before she narrowed them on the man. She’d planned on being relatively polite, but that went straight to hell after being called out.

“How would you know, Singer? Seems it’s been a while since a woman has given you the time of day.”

Azrial snapped back, but to his credit, the hunter simply rolled his eyes before stepping aside and waving them in.

“Don’t get snippy, Princess. Nothin’ you say will get to me. I’ve heard it all before.”

Azrial huffed and brushed past the hunter, but couldn’t help being mildly impressed with his response. It took a ballsy, and maybe slightly suicidal, man to stand up to a being who can kill you with the snap of their fingers. Bobby was either that confident in their deal, or he just had zero fucks to give about who she and Crowley were.

Azrial almost hoped it was the latter, just because it would be a nice change of pace.

The door shut behind them and they followed Bobby into the same room they were in last night to see Sam, Dean and Castiel still asleep on the furniture. Azrial raised her eyebrow at her brother’s sleeping form. She was half tempted to leave at that point but remained quiet as Bobby shook each of their shoulders to wake them up. Azrial watched as Castiel’s eyes snapped open but as soon as he saw who had touched him, relaxed. It seemed he’d found a place to belong. 

Azrial was happy for him, but couldn’t help the feeling of guilt that crept into her mind as Castiel’s eyes shot to look at her warily.

“Glad you’re all up. Where’s Anderson? All of us need to talk.”

She kept her voice neutral and ignored the soft huff from Crowley at the inclusion of the exorcist. Azrial knew it would put them in a better standing to allow the man to be there rather than fight it, but it didn’t mean the demon was happy about it. Hell, she wasn’t overly thrilled about including him either. Azrial had a feeling last night had been an act, but she couldn’t be sure and hoped that things didn’t get out of hand again. 

“In the kitchen, getting breakfast. It would be the best place for us all to sit down.”

Azrial raised an eyebrow at the clear prompting from Bobby, but shrugged showing she didn’t care where they talked. She chanced a glance at Crowley who was looking around the room curiously. His eyes were running over the plethora of books in the makeshift living room slash office area. Crowley was a firm believer in the mantra ‘knowledge is power’ and it made him into somewhat of a book hoarder. As everyone made their way into the kitchen she tapped Crowley’s arm as she passed by him. The demon hummed and turned away from the books and turned toward the kitchen as well. 

When Azrial turned to join them, her eyes locked with Bobby’s and he simply raised an eyebrow at her. She frowned and realized the hunter must have caught her interaction with Crowley. She brushed past him and ignored the questioning look in favor of dealing with the issue at hand. Everyone but Crowley was seated around the kitchen table. The demon was leaning against the counter and Azrial found herself resisting the urge to go stand by him. Instead, she stood at the end of the table just as Bobby sat down. Bobby sitting was the cue for all eyes to turn toward her expectantly and Azrial sighed as a feeling of nostalgia rushed over her for a moment. 

It had been a long time since she was in this position.

“Lucifer will be making his move in around 48 hours.”

Azrial kept her voice calm, knowing what was going to happen the moment she revealed the plan. Her ears were already preemptively ringing from the screaming match that was about to occur.

“So we need a plan.” Dean paused, sipping his coffee before smirking cockily at her, “You’re the big bad archangel; what do we do?”

“ _We_ don’t do anything. None of you are coming.”

A soft cough from Crowley was the only sound for several moments, and their eyes met. Azrial felt as if a cold hand wrap around her heart as she remembered her promise. Damn it. She hadn’t wanted him near this either. She wanted him _safe_.

“Well, Crowley is going. The rest of you are staying here.”

Her amended statement, uttered with more than a touch of reluctance, was greeted by a cacophony of sound. Azrial winced as everyone seated at the table yelled to be heard over each other, even Castiel who was at times slipping toward the angelic tongue in his anger.

Azrial was about to try and break up the yelling when a sharp whistle had everyone covering their ears. Her eyes snapped to Crowley who was rubbing his temple as he lowered his other hand from his mouth.

“Will you idiots _shut up_ and let her talk? Or at least yell one at a bloody time.”

The hunters chose the latter, and Dean immediately turned toward her with a glare.

“Who the hell do you think you are, lady? This is _our_ fight and we’re damn well going to be a part of it. You don’t get to bench us!”

Azrial stared at the eldest Winchester for several moments, utterly surprised at the balls on him. Then she made the mistake of looking at his soul rather than his face, and the pain of everything happening came full circle.

Dean Winchester’s soul, powerful and strong and so _so_ bright, was an exact mirror of Michael’s grace.

It actually made what she was about to say easier, even if her words came out more emotional than they normally would have. 

“I am your _only hope_ of surviving. You have no chance of beating Lucifer, or did you forget why you ended up at my doorstep?”

Dean bristled, and Azrial made sure to close herself off from the souls of the people in the room. She didn’t need to know if Sam Winchester looked like Lucifer, and she certainly didn’t need to know any more about Rowen or Bobby. You’d think after decades of living with Crowley and _never_ looking past his vessel out of respect for his privacy she’d know better than to tempt fate, Azrial thought bitterly. 

“We can still fight him! You’re supposed to _help_ not take over!”

Azrial narrowed her eyes on Dean and snapped back, “Would you like the list of reasons why you’re wrong alphabetically or numerically, Winchester?”

“Numerically, you self righteous feather duster.” 

Dean hissed the comment and Azrial gave a sharp laugh that seemed to startle the humans in the room as she quickly countered.

“Number one, you bratty little human,” she paused enjoying the scowl that Dean leveled on her more than she probably should, “You’re Michael’s _perfect_ vessel. Lucifer will splatter your pretty little face all over the concrete out of principle alone.” 

Azrial wasn’t blind to the pained look that passed over Sam’s face, or the way Bobby’s fists clenched on the table at the reminder. She needed these idiots to realize this wasn’t worth it. If it meant hurting their feelings, so fucking be it. Azrial pressed on as she glared at Dean who looked surprised at the verbal lashing.

“Remember, Lucifer doesn’t want to fight Michael. Not really. He just wants to destroy humanity. With you out of the way that becomes a lot easier. Secondly,”

“Oi, you don’t need to be-”

Azrial snapped her fingers and Dean’s eyes widened as he realized he couldn’t speak. His glare intensified as she continued her rant.

“Secondly, you’re human. Kinda makes number one all the more satisfying for my dear old brother. Third, if he doesn’t kill you he’ll play with your mind. Lucifer is a master manipulator and when he puts his mind to it even a Saint will crumble under his influence. Lucifer’s just lazy, and believe me you _don’t_ want him to stop being lazy.”

Dean’s lips pursed and she snapped her fingers once more giving him back his ability to speak.

“Lastly, you’re a _hunter,_ not a _soldier_ , Winchester. You wouldn’t obey me, and I can’t risk that. Not with my life on the line,” she added as an afterthought.

Not with Crowley’s life on the line, Azrial thought as she finished her rant. She’d be fine, she knew that in her gut, but Crowley could be killed before she had the chance to intercede. If Azrial could get away with it, she’d be locking his ass in a Devil’s Trap and _still_ be going alone. The bastard was far too cunning for that though, and she had a feeling he’d be keeping a sharp eye out for such actions. Crowley knew her far too well to think he’d won that promise so easily. 

“That doesn’t explain why _I_ can’t go, sister.”

Castiel’s voice was strong, and there wasn’t a waver in it as he spoke to her. Azrial almost smiled at the realization that he felt confident enough to speak to her as an equal, but she shoved it down to focus on everything his statement implied.

“There is no need for you to go, Castiel. You should stay and watch over your charges.”

Castiel scoffed and stood up staring her down. He was using his vessel height to his advantage, and Azrial raised an eyebrow at the action.

“My job is to _protect_ them. They can defend themselves easily, but Lucifer is a threat to their lives. My place in all this is fighting Lucifer so Sam and Dean can go back to their lives.”

“What good could you possibly do, Castiel? Your powers are weak. I can feel that. Father only knows when the last time you truly fought was on top of that.”

“I hunt-”

“You know what I mean.”

Azrial snapped the statement, not wanting to explain to humans the difference between the two. Castiel didn’t back down though. His eyes became colder and he said softly, “Then test me. I refuse to remain on the sidelines like this. I _will_ protect my family. They’re all I have left.”

Azrial swallowed thickly at that and shoved away the guilt that flowed through her at Castiel’s words. She’d done the same, hadn’t she? She had shoved her family away and sided with Crowley. There was no need to feel guilty about Castiel making the same choice. Not right now. Maybe later, when she was alone and could actually think about it, but for now it was a hindrance. 

“Fine. If you’re truly up to my standards, you may come.”

Castiel’s eyes flashed with satisfaction, and he sat down at her words. So he wasn’t going to fight for the Winchester’s inclusion? Interesting.

“If Cas is going then I’m going! You can’t just pick and choose.”

“No.”

Azrial said the word, but she was surprised that it was echoed by Crowley and Castiel with the same amount of heat. Dean looked startled but kept his eyes narrowed on her, “And why the hell not?”

Azrial turned back toward Dean with a scowl, and hissed, “Castiel’s reasoning was sound, and even then he needs to prove to me that he can still fight. You’re grasping at straws, Dean.”

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Sam spoke up first. 

“We were raised to be soldiers thanks to our Dad. Dean in particular. Your last point isn’t really valid.”

Sam kept his voice respectful,l but there was still a harsh edge to his words. Azrial raised an eyebrow at his words and dropped some of the hostility from her voice as she answered.

“Is that so? Would your brother obey me? Hell, would he obey Crowley if it came down to it? In a situation like this, a human’s sense may not be enough. If Crowley or I sense something is off, we can’t afford to be arguing with you. We need instant obedience.”

Sam frowned at her words and remained silent. Bobby broke in at that point and Azrial wished she could just put them all to sleep for the next 48 hours instead of having this conversation,

“You shouldn’t count us out of the fight just ‘cause we’re human, Princess. If you give us the tools we can and will fight.”

Azrial scowled at the nickname and opened her mouth to respond but it proved unnecessary.

“You ungrateful idiots just don’t get it, do you?”

Crowley’s voice was laced with annoyance and aggravation as he spat the question. Azrial remained silent wondering where the demon was going with his question.

“How are we ungrateful?”

Bobby snapped the question, and Crowley scowled as he pushed himself up from his leaning position to get closer to the table. His eyes dragged over them all coldly as he spoke.

“We’re giving you morons an out, and you still want to throw your lives away in an act of meaningless bravery. It makes me wonder why I even bothered introducing you to Azrial if you were going to run off and get your fool arses killed anyway.”

Crowley’s words seemed to cut Bobby the deepest, and the hunter remained silent after that. No one spoke for several moments, and when someone did, Azrial was surprised that it was Rowen. The exorcist had remained silent up until now, but his voice brooked no room for argument.

“They’re right, you know?”

Rowen’s question was clearly rhetorical, but it startled the hunters. Azrial shot Crowley a questioning look, but the demon’s eyes were narrowed on Rowen. She couldn’t blame him. Of all the people to agree with them, Rowen seemed the least likely. Dean shot a betrayed look at the exorcist whose eyes hardened slightly.

“There’s no honor in dying on a suicide run you’re no longer needed for, Dean.”

Azrial watched the younger hunter struggle with the blunt statement, and still couldn’t believe the turn of events. Still, hearing it from a friend seemed to have had a profound effect on the humans so Azrial leveled a curious gaze on Rowen.

“I’m impressed. After last night, I never expected you to side with us.”

Rowen gave a roguish smile, and Azrial simply raised an eyebrow, prompting the exorcist to laugh.

“I’m not _always_ an asshole, and I know when to back down from a fight. Bobby has a point though. If things go south on your end we need a way to defend ourselves.”

Azrial frowned slightly at the unspoken ultimatum. She had to hand it to the man; Rowen had found a middle ground that would silence most of them but it came at a price. 

“You already have demon-killing weapons.”

“We do. What we _need_ is a way to defend against angels.”

Azrial remained silent at that comment and mulled over Rowen’s words. Dean took the silence as a chance to air his displeasure at the situation. 

“This is _bullshit_! Are we really going to let these three handle it?” 

When silence greeted his question Dean turned his eyes on Castiel, and the angel seemed to shrink away slightly at the piercing gaze. Azrial snorted at the interaction but remained silent as Dean plowed on.

“Cas, you know this isn't our way. We’re family, we stick together.” 

Castiel’s eyes became turbulent, and Azrial could see the conflict brewing behind his gaze. She wondered how often Dean got what he wanted from her brother, but who was she to judge? Crowley managed to get his way more often than not as well.

“Dean, they all have a point. Dying for the sake of dying? It isn’t like us.”

Sam’s voice was calm, but Dean turned on his brother, temper still high, “That isn’t the point! We-!”

“The Princess has a point.” 

Bobby’s firm voice shut Dean up, and Azrial scowled at the hunter. She was going to turn him into a mute if he kept up with that nickname.

“We don’t stand a chance. We never did, Dean. We asked for a miracle and for once we freakin’ got one. Let it go.”

Bobby’s words seemed to be sinking in but Dean wasn’t ready to give up just yet, “But Cas-”

“Castiel can handle himself, Dean. You _know_ that. Let the three of them deal with this.”

Bobby’s final statement brooked no room for argument and Dean fell silent. He still looked pissed, but Azrial could deal with that. Her eyes darted to Castiel, whose eyes shone with guilt as Dean stopped arguing. With a sigh, she turned to her brother.

“Why don’t you prove Singer’s faith in you, Castiel? You’re still not cleared to go, and this would be a good way to put your friends’ minds’ at ease.”

Castiel steeled himself and nodded at her offhand statement. Azrial shrugged her jacket off and sighed as she realized she was still wearing the shirt from last night. Bobby sent her a knowing look, and she shot him a warning look. Why did she have to deal with a _perceptive_ human? Oh, right, the world was ending.

“Will this be as messy as the last time you trained?”

Crowley sounded far too amused, and Azrial rolled her eyes.

“You mean when I wiped the floor with _you_? No. I expect Castiel to put up a far better fight.” 

There was a flash annoyance mixed with amusement in the demon’s eyes at her snarked comment. In response, she threw her jacket at him. 

Crowley caught it with a roll of his eyes as he spoke, “You’re so mouthy. Why do I even put up with you?”

“I’ve got a pretty face.”

Azrial said it sweetly as she gently prodded Castiel toward the door. Her brother took a steadying breath but seemed prepared.

Azrial wasn’t entirely sure she _was_ , but it had nothing to do with testing Castiel.


	11. Go the Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, ooh, we're halfway there. Woooow WOOOW. Livin on a prayer!
> 
> Sorry, had to. Welcome to the halfway point! Thank you to all who have left kudos, comments, and even those who just stop by to read. Arc two is almost to the editing phase, so things are going smoothly. 
> 
> CW: There is a graphic fight in this chapter. Expect blood, broken bones, and cursing.

_December 13, 2009_

Rowen watched the two angels face off against each other in the junkyard with a wary gaze. He wasn’t sure if the others could feel it or not, but there was a palpable power in the air that set him on edge. It didn’t help that Crowley’s power was _gleefully_ humming along with the angels’, as if he couldn’t wait for the fight to start. Every instinct in his body was screaming to get the hell out of the area, but he kept his ground and ended up sitting on the tailgate of Bobby’s truck next to the hunter. 

“They better not ‘eff up everything.”

The terse statement was laced with concern, and Rowen could tell his friend was worried about Castiel. He couldn’t blame Bobby. Castiel had talked Azrial up quite a bit, and now he was willingly fighting her to prove a point. It spoke about how highly the angel thought of them, but also seemed like a very _Winchester_ thing to do.

“I’m sure they’ll try and keep it...calm.”

Yeah, right, Rowen thought mutely as Crowley’s power spiked when both angels slid into a fighting stance almost in tandem. Somehow he doubted either angel did calm. Especially not Azrial from what he’d seen.

“You ready, Castiel?”

Her voice was condescending, and Rowen could feel Bobby stiffen next to him. He shot a look at where the Winchesters had sat down on the hood of their car and could see the annoyance on Dean’s face at the question.

“You were never one for pleasantries before a fight, Azrial. Draw your blade and _shut up_.”

The venom attached to the statement actually made the archangel smile, and she drew a silver blade, identical to the one in Castiel’s hand. 

Rowen narrowed his eyes and whispered to Bobby, “Isn’t that the normal angel blade you told me about?”

Bobby nodded but didn’t move his gaze away from the tense angels as he muttered, “Yeah, the lore said she should have her own weapon though.”

“Maybe it’s even more deadly to other angels?”

“Maybe.”

Bobby’s terse response ended the conversation, and Rowen watched Castiel tense despite Azrial not having moved yet.

Then she wasn’t there.

Rowen’s eyes widened as she seemed to appear behind Castiel, her leg already in motion to cave in his skull. Castiel barely moved in time, but his coat was grabbed by Azrial when she landed, and she yanked him back by it. The angel cursed as he stumbled forward. Azrial started at him as she circled Castiel with a frown.

“You’re weak, Castiel. Give this up.”

Azrial sounded bored and annoyed, and Rowen shot a look at Crowley when he felt the demon’s power drop. It was like they’d both been expecting more out of this. There was a flash of anger in Castiel’s eyes, but the angel seemed to remain calm as he took his jacket off and threw it to the side. Azrial narrowed her eyes, and Rowen watched as she seemed to take in Castiel’s every breath. It actually cued him into the way Castiel shifted his blade to sit differently in his hand. Azrial seemed pleased at the change but didn’t move toward him.

“You’ve gotten cocky, Azrial. Something you always told us never to be.”

“It’s not cocky if you’re the _best_ , Castiel. It’s simply showing you your place.”’

Castiel frowned, and there was a slight twitch of annoyance before he launched at Azrial without another word. She sighed, clearly not pleased with his action, and simply sidestepped the blow at the last moment. She flipped her blade and jabbed the hilt into Castiel’s side making the angel shoot up into a more rigid position.

“Your form is crap. It’s like you’ve chosen to be sloppy. Get your shit together or stop wasting my time.”

Her tone was biting, and the blade flipped again, but to Rowen’s surprise, she sheathed it. Castiel didn’t move but there was cold fury in his eyes at the reprimand. When he didn’t attack again, Azrial huffed and turned to walk toward Crowley.

“You’re not going, Castiel. Stay with your humans. I don’t need a _liability_. At least Crowley is competent.”

Rowen saw the moment the cold fury turned into a blaze, and he also caught the knowing smirk on Azrial’s lips even as she walked away. She’d set Castiel up, and the angel was about to play right into her hand.

Castiel made another attack, but this time he forced Azrial to parry with her blade. It wasn’t the silver one from earlier though, but a gold twisted blade with a rust-red cloth hilt. She looked pleased, and Rowen could see Castiel had forced her to take a step back.

“ _Don’t_ turn your back on me, sister.”

Castiel’s voice had dropped an octave as he growled at his sister, and Rowen had to strain to hear him. Azrial laughed, it wasn’t a warm sound, sending a shiver down his back.

“Then give me a reason not to, _little brother_.”

She mocked Castiel, and her voice sounded more _demonic_ than angelic. Castiel bared his teeth slightly, and Rowen watched as the visage of humanity seemed to melt away from both of them. Azrial’s eyes were bright, far too bright to be normal, and Castiel seemed to be itching to draw blood. The power in the area was pressing down on them, and the tinge of demonic energy that sang above it all made Rowen wonder if Crowley was somehow egging the angels on. 

The blades clashed together, and for several minutes it seemed Castiel was keeping up with his sister. Rowen knew better just from the smirk that seemed a permanent fixture on the archangel’s face. She was giving him a _chance_. That’s all this was. As if to prove his point, Castiel managed to cut Azrial’s cheek. It was a deep gash right below her eye, and Castiel had taken a deep cut to his side to manage it tearing the dress shirt he was wearing. Azrial’s smirk became a full-blown smile, like a parent watching their child take their first teetering steps in the world.

It was disturbing, Rowen thought mutely, considering the primal fear that painted Castiel’s face. 

“Azrial, don’t-”

Castiel was cut off by Azrial punching him in the stomach with enough force to send him careening into a stack of cars with a groan. Bobby shot to his feet, and Rowen dragged him back down with a hissed warning.

“Your boy is _fine_. Look, he’s getting back up.”

Castiel stumbled to his feet and coughed up some blood as he stared at his smiling sister. The angel took a deep breath, and Rowen watched as Castiel vanished from his sight for a moment and appeared in front of Azrial causing the angel to step back. She smiled brightly as she threw her blade in the air. Rowen watched as Castiel’s eyes widened, and he immediately put distance between the two of them. Rowen didn’t understand why until the blade fell back toward her hand, changing shape as it did so.

“Holy shit!” 

Dean’s voice carried, and Rowen silently agreed as he watched with wide eyes as a large, duel ended, scythe fell into the archangel’s hand with practiced ease. The blade was easily as tall, if not taller, than Azrial. The end toward the sky had a short blade that almost mirrored a polearm, where the traditional scythe blade was aimed toward the ground. The weapon had kept its bronze color, and Castiel was eying it warily. 

“That is hardly fair, Azrial.”

Castiel’s voice was hard, and it was clear he had no intention of getting within reach of the weapon. Azrial laughed and spun the blade with ease so it rested on her shoulders. The movements were more proof she was far from human. Rowen doubted a human would ever be able to wield such a cumbersome weapon, but Castiel was keeping his distance making it clear Azrial knew how to use it, and use it well. 

“Lucifer won’t fight fair, Castiel. Are you giving up?”

The condescending tone was gone, and Rowen wondered if Castiel had already shown he was capable of going. Castiel frowned at the question, and without warning launched at Azrial. The pride shining in her eyes made them even brighter, and with an expert swing, she brought the scythe forward. It was level with the angel’s neck and Bobby shouted, “Move, idjit!”

Castiel didn’t hesitate despite the yell, and at the last moment, he ducked under Azrial’s blade and sliced her side as he continued moving past her. Azrial looked like the cat who got the cannery, and with an inhuman amount of speed, she slammed the smaller blade right through Castiel’s ankle causing the angel to gasp in pain, and stumble forward. There was clear agony on Castiel’s face as the blade was withdrawn, and Azrial turned on him like a viper and went to strike again. Castiel’s eyes widened, and Rowen felt his jaw drop as Castiel managed to _jump_ despite his injury and suddenly he was in the air. 

“Oh my God.”

Rowen uttered the words as he stared at the large white wings, tinged with black throughout as if they’d been drenched in soot, held Castiel out of his sister’s attack range. 

“Did, did you know he could do that!”

Rowen turned to Bobby and demanded an answer, but his friend was staring in awe as much as he was. Rowen quickly turned back to the fight and saw Azrial eyeing Castiel’s wings critically.

“What the hell happened to your wings, Castiel?”

“Hellfire.”

The one-word answer was clipped, and Rowen caught the sharp exhale from Dean at the declaration. It seemed the wings were once pure white, and Rowen wondered about the story. Bobby never did explain how everything occurred, and this was likely a piece of the puzzle. 

“They suit you, Castiel.”

The compliment was genuine, and Rowen could see the surprise on Castiel’s face at it. Then, Azrial ran forward and actually jumped onto the hood of a scrapper and launched herself into the air. The awe Rowen had felt at Castiel’s wings was nothing compared to the sight in front of him now.

Six pristine black wings, at least six feet apiece, spread out and seemed to absorb any light that hit them. He could see slight flecks of white, or was it silver, on the pitch feathers that reflected what little light made it through. There was a spike in demonic power, and Rowen shot Crowley a look. The demon was staring up at the archangel with a look that could only be described as _hungry_. His eyes had even bled red, and they were racking over the wings with a heat Rowen had only seen a few times.

It was covetous. Possessive. _Wanting_.

Everything Rowen expected given Crowley’s demonic nature, and the pure _power_ the archangel was displaying. It was disgusting.

Crowley’s face seemed to fall, and his eyes changed back to normal and Rowen found himself on the end of a dark glare. Rowen scowled and turned back to the fight. The two angels were circling each other, neither wanting to make the first move. Both had several cuts and bruises but looked otherwise unscathed. By angel standards anyway. Azrial’s mutilation of Castiel’s ankle would have crippled a human. Suddenly they both launched at each other, and Rowen swore he saw feathers start to fly. The blows were harder, faster, and seemed to border on deadly. At one point he saw Castiel’s blade graze Azrial’s jugular. The archangel had moved at the last moment, but there was still a trickle of blood from the cut. Castiel’s shirt was torn to shreds, and the angel was practically topless at this point and his chest was peppered with fine cuts that never went deep enough to cause any permanent damage. 

The two angels were smiling. Hell, Rowen swore he saw Castiel laugh at something Azrial said. The looser the angel got, the _better_ he fought, and it was clear this was what Azrial had hoped to accomplish. The minutes sped by, and it was obvious Castiel was tiring. In a move that saw Azrial’s eyes widening in surprise, Castiel managed to get behind his sister and get a blade to her throat. Azrial though made a move that had to be the height of stupidity, at least to Rowen.

She let her wings vanish.

Castiel looked shocked, and his hesitance was enough for the now wingless archangel to drop her blade, shove Castiel’s away from her throat, and drag the surprised angel down with her. The two angels crashed heavily into a stack of cars, and now there really were feathers everywhere as they finally hit the ground. Bobby shot up and ran toward them. Sam and Dean weren’t far behind and Rowen followed them quickly. Castiel’s wings were wrapped around the both of them and the feathers looked askew with the way he landed. Azrial’s leg looked painfully out of place, and from what he could see of Castiel’s arm that was broken as well.

“Cas, man, are you okay?”

Dean moved forward and slowly pulled the wing away, and Rowen was surprised Castiel allowed it. The other wing pulled away as well to reveal Azrial had been pulled close to Castiel as the two had fallen, and both were covered in blood, dirt, and bruises.

“Thanks for the concern, Winchester.”

Azrial groaned the comment as she slowly pushed herself up, and when she reached out for a hand Rowen jumped when Crowley helped her up. He hadn’t even seen the demon come over. Azrial stumbled slightly but with a hiss of pain and a sickening snap there was a soft glow around her leg. She shook her leg carefully and then leaned down to help Castiel, but Dean slapped her hand away causing a pregnant pause.

“Dean, I’m fine. There was no need for-”

Castiel was cut off when Dean turned furiously to him, “Your arm is _broken_ , Cas. That last move was completely unnecessary, and that bi-”

“Dean, stop.”

Castiel’s voice was firm, and Dean glared for several seconds before offering the angel a hand up. Castiel took it with his good hand and hoisted himself up dislodging several more soot-stained feathers as he did so. Azrial offered her hand to Castiel once he was on his feet, and Dean turned his glare on her.

“We don’t need your damn help.”

“Would you rather have to cast his arm? Stop being an ass.”

Castiel stepped in front of Dean extending his arm to Azrail despite Dean’s reservations. Her bloody fingers rand over his arm and she absentmindedly asked, “Crowley, could you grab my scythe?”

The demon hummed and turned to grab the massive weapon from where it had fallen several feet away. Azrial’s eyes flashed silver and her fingers gave off a blue glow as she gently rubbed Castiel’s arm. It was nowhere near the forced reset she’d done to her leg, and Rowen wondered why she was being so gentle. 

“You can come.”

The words were said with an audible pride, and Castiel stood a touch straighter when Aziral released his arm. She turned away as Crowley returned, and Rowen watched as even the demon struggled with the weapon. 

“Can all archangel weapons do that?”

Sam’s hesitant question made Azrial laugh as she gripped the scythe. It seemed to melt away, once more replaced by the bronze blade. 

“Of course. Our power is greater than a normal angel, so it stands to reason we would have special weapons. We are far from the only class of angel that does though.”

She resheathed the weapon allowing her shirt to cover it. Sam looked a touch sick at the thought, and Rowen shot Bobby a look. The man nodded in understanding, and Rowen knew that would be a long talk. 

“Are ya done trashing my yard?”

“Didn’t enjoy the show, Robert?”

Crowley’s voice was laced with amusement, and Bobby glared at the demon. 

Azrial snorted and shook her head, “Lay off him, Crowley. Not everyone can appreciate the degree of skill Castiel just showed, isn’t that right Dean?”

The slight at both Bobby and Dean was clear even if it was delivered in a nonchalant tone. Bobby looked furious, and Dean snarled back.

“You call that a show of skill? That was dangerous. You could have kill-”

“But I didn’t because Castiel is more than skilled enough for such training. A piece of advice, Winchester, Castiel _isn’t_ human. Stop pretending he is. It’s insulting.”

There was a bite in her words now, and Rowen couldn’t bear to look at his friend. If the shock and hurt on Dean’s face was anything to go off of, Bobby wouldn’t be much better. 

“That ain’t-”

Azrial cut off Dean with a sharp laugh, and Crowley looked rather smug at her words. 

“It _is_. He’s supposed to be your friend, family if your outburst earlier is anything to go by. I won’t be a hypocrite and say he shouldn’t be close with you idiots, not with Crowley standing next to me,”

Azrial paused and took a steadying breath, and her anger simmered down before she continued, “But you can’t make him human. If Castiel chose to be human, ripped out his grace and fell, he wouldn’t be _him_ anymore.”

There was a warning in her voice and Rowen watched as the Winchesters paled, and Castiel looked away from Dean. It seemed she’d touched on something that was an ongoing problem, or perhaps she spoke from experience?

“And Crowley’s different? He doesn’t try and change ya?”

Bobby snapped the questions and Azrial rolled her eyes and went to answer when Crowley cut her off.

“Why would I? She’s an _archangel_ , one of the most powerful beings in existence. Why the hell would I want her to be anything else?”

“Crowley has a point, no matter how crudely he put it.” Azrial said.

There was a tense silence and Azrial turned back to Castiel with a smile, “Come with me, brother. I’d like to get you in more suitable clothing. That coat really isn’t safe in a fight.”

Castiel hesitated for a moment, but when Dean wouldn’t meet his eyes the angel sighed and allowed his sister to grab his arm, and they vanished from the area. Crowley stayed for several moments, and Rowen was surprised at the rather civil tone the demon took.

“Angels are prideful beings. May I recommend you _don’t_ ignore that fact in the future?”

The demon left as well, and Rowen watched as Dean stormed off toward the house. Sam ran after his brother, and Rowen wished the younger hunter luck in calming his brother down. Bobby didn’t move for several moments and actually leaned down to pick up two of the feathers that had fallen. One belonged to Castiel, and the other to Azrial. The researcher eyed them curiously and Rowen hesitantly asked, “You doing okay?”

“Do you think that bastard was right?”

Bobby’s voice held no emotion, and Rowen winced. His next words made bile creep up his throat.

“Honestly? Yes. I know the three of you see Castiel as family, but I think sometimes you choose to see him as human when he clearly isn’t.”

“We’re hunters we ain’t supposed to-”

Rowen cut Bobby off and tried to keep his voice calm. This was one of those things he and Bobby disagreed on. Bobby leaned, like many hunters, that if it wasn’t human, best to kill it. As an exorcist, Rowen had met many creatures, and not all of them tried to harm humans. Castiel blurred that rule so much, and he had a feeling the presence of Crowley and Aziral wasn’t helping things. 

“Then stop thinking like a damn hunter, and think like a _father_ , Bobby.”

Bobby froze, and for a moment his friend looked furious at being called out. Rowen couldn’t afford to play nice on this topic anymore. Best to treat it like a bandaid.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Bobby, and I’ll apologize. I don’t think lying to an ordained priest will get you many points though.” 

The fury melted off Bobby’s face, and Rowen watched his words sink in. Rowen sighed and added softly, “Bobby, I know it’s easier to paint monsters as evil. To ignore that there are vamps out there that wouldn’t touch a human, or that the Fair Folk aren’t all out to eat babies, but sometimes we have to.”

“Drop it, Anderson.”

The warning was clear, and Rowen sighed. He knew he’d pissed off his friend so he simply said, “Just think about it, Robert. God knows now more than ever, you should hold the people you love close.”

Rowen walked away from his friend, not wanting to piss Bobby off more than he already had. He remembered the last time they’d had this argument, and all that it had cost them, and Rowen didn’t want to go down that path again. Their friendship meant far too much to him, so Rowen retreated to the house to start creating protections for Bobby and his boys just in case things went tits up without warning.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter.

_December 13, 2009_

Dean slammed the door to the house open and made his way to the fridge. He grabbed a beer, slamming the fridge door shut, and popping the cap off before downing half of it in a moment. 

“Dean-”

“Don’t even start, Sam.”

Dean snapped at his brother and Sam frowned but remained silent for several moments. He didn’t want to hear how he’d overreacted, or how he’d let Crowley’s words get to him. Sam opened his mouth but was cut off by Dean’s phone ringing and he sighed in relief as he flipped it open.

“This is Dean.”

“Why the _hell_ haven’t you updated us, Winchester?”

Dean winced at the furious voice and held the phone slightly away from his ear at the yelling. There was nothing more terrifying than a Harvelle woman, and Ellen made Jo look like a puppy.

“Well, things have gotten complicated. It wasn’t on purpose, I swear.” 

His pleading fell on deaf ears as Ellen steamrolled on, “Where the hell is Singer? I’ve been calling him all damn morning.”

“Uh, think he’s out front talking with Rowen. We just got done watching two angels willingly beat the shit out of each other.”

There were several seconds of silence, and Dean preemptively pulled the phone away from his ear.

“What the fuck is going on there?”

Dean saw Sam wince at the shouting, and looked at his brother pleadingly. Sam held up his hands and mouthed ‘hell no’ and Dean groaned.

“Ellen, it’s a long story. Remember the job Jo helped us on?”

“The one with that smug ass demon?”

“Yeah, that one,” Dean paused when Ellen hummed prompting him to go on, “Well, he was in contact with an archangel who was willin’ to help us. She’s a bit of an Alpha Bitch, and basically put us in the corner as far as fighting Lucifer goes.”

“Need me to come there?”

Dean smiled weakly at the offer and knew Ellen would chew Azrial out even though the archangel could tear the woman to shreds.

“Nah, she’s got Crowley backing her up and while I doubt,” he paused and considered for a moment, “yeah, while I doubt Azrial would do more than laugh Crowley may actually try and kill ya.”

“That’s a mess. Still, should we head out there to back ya’ll up?”

Dean was silent for several moments. He didn’t want the Harvelle’s anywhere near this. The thought of something happening to Jo or Ellen left him feeling dead inside. It was bad enough they’d lost the Road House, he didn’t want them to lose their lives due to helping them. 

“Nah. I think we’ve got this shit show handled.”

Dean tried to keep his voice neutral but Ellen must have picked up on his emotions because she asked, “What’s bugging you, Dean? You’re _too_ calm for everything going on.”

Dean shut his eyes and considered his next words carefully. He took a swig of his beer and tried to downplay how he was feeling.

“Azrial knew Cas, like raised him and trained him, knew Cas.”

“Oh? That’s gotta be an interesting dynamic.”

“She’s barely given him the time of day and just beat the ever-living shit out of him and claimed it was training.”

There were several seconds of silence, Dean almost wished he could see Ellen’s face. He looked at Sam and saw his brother had sat down looking at him expectantly. It seemed Sam had wanted to have this conversation, and this was a decent substitute.

“Was she in the same shape when the fight ended?”

Dean frowned, “Well yeah. Both had broken bones, cuts, and bruises. It was a mess.”

“Then did she really ‘beat the shit out of him’ or were they training like you and your brother sometimes do?”

The question brought Dean up short and he snapped, “Sam and I have _never_ broken each other’s bones.”

“And how long did those broken bones last, Dean?”

“Dunno, a few minutes?”

Dean’s jaw snapped shut when he heard Ellen laugh, and the woman finally answered. “Then what the hell’s the problem, Dean? I know Castiel is family, but he’s gotten worse on hunts.”

“She almost killed him a few times!”

“And you haven’t _almost_ seriously hurt Sam? Come on Dean, you’re being irrational.”

Dean growled and was ready to yell when Ellen cut him off with a hard voice, “Don’t you take that tone with me, Winchester. You’re looking at this from a human perspective, and whether you like it or not, Castiel isn’t human.”

“Why do people keep saying that! I know Cas isn’t human, but-”

“There are no buts, Dean. Castiel isn’t human, stop trying to force human restrictions and habits on a damn angel.”

Dean froze at the snapped statement, and he didn’t respond for several seconds. Was he applying his own ideas of what was acceptable to Cas? Fuck Azrial, honestly, he could care less what the bitch thought of him, but Cas? Had he pushed too far and somehow offended his friend, his _family_ , by trying to reason out his actions?

“Dean?”

Ellen’s concerned voice made Dean shake his head. 

“Damnit. I think I fucked up.”

“It happens, Dean. I doubt Castiel will give you too much flak, especially when his siblings have been dicks thus far.”

“She’s a _bitch_ , Ellen. An ice-cold ‘I’ll freeze your nuts off’ bitch.”

Ellen snorted at Dean’s annoyed huff, “I offered to come out there, Dean. I still can.”

The genuine offer made Dean consider it, but he knew if Ellen and Jo came out they’d insist on helping them with anything that came up. They were safer where they were.

“Nah. Bobby’s been pretty good at keeping the peace, and when he fails Rowen picks up the slack.”

“Alright. Tell Singer to call me, ya hear?”

“Course. Talk to you later, Ellen.”

Dean hung up the phone with a sigh, and before Sam could speak, Rowen came in looking like someone had verbally ripped his head off.

“You okay, man?”

Dean posed the question, and Rowen smiled. It didn’t reach the exorcist’s eyes and Dean wondered what had happened after he stormed off.

“I’m fine. Would you boys like to learn how to make holy bullets?”

Dean knew a change of subject when he heard one, but what hunter in their right mind would turn down _that_ knowledge?

“Hell yeah!”

Dean grinned back as he took a seat at the kitchen table, and Sam seemed to think the change was worth dropping the previous subject as well. Rowen began explaining the method, but even then Dean found his thoughts wandering to Castiel. He hoped he hadn’t put his foot in it too badly.

**Line Break**

Bobby entered the house an hour later to hear Rowen patiently explaining the difference between holy bullets and the bullets the Colt used. Bobby sighed and knew he had to apologize to the man. He’d lost his temper at Rowen when he was far from the reason he was upset. He was about to enter the kitchen when the sound of feathers filled the kitchen.

“Cas? What the hell are you wearing?”

Bobby walked into the kitchen and understood Sam’s surprise. The angel was decked out in a pair of loose-fitting jeans not unlike what Sam and Dean wore. He was wearing a loose blue t-shirt with a simple flannel shirt and was shifting uncomfortably.

“Azrial said this outfit would be easier to fight in. I couldn’t find fault in her words considering you all dress like this.”

Castiel sounded unsure, and Bobby frowned. He really didn’t _trust_ that archangel, but she had just made a rather obvious request: take care of my brother, he’s one of you now.

Castiel wasn’t dressed like her. The archangel seemed to wear black as if she were constantly in mourning, sometimes changing it up with a patterned shirt. She also _always_ looked impeccable, where Castiel seemed like he’d just got off a hunt with mussed hair and still dirty hands. He looked like a _hunter_ , and Bobby prayed Azrial wasn’t trying to play games. 

“Well, gotta admit you’re looking good Cas.”

Dean sounded amused and gestured to the angel to come sit with them. Castiel’s hesitance seemed to melt away and he walked over to sit between Sam and Dean. Bobby entered the kitchen and Rowen looked up at him. Bobby tried to convey that he was fine, and the man nodded and Bobby fell into the seat next to the exorcist. Dean asked the question on Bobby’s mind.

“So, Cas, when are you heading out?

“Thursday night. We’re set to meet at our checkpoint at eight in the evening, though Azrial requested for me to spend some time with her tonight.”

“Still can’t believe we ain’t going.” 

Dean sighed, and Bobby saw a strange look pass over Castiel’s face. The angel tugged at the flannel shirt and seemed deep in thought as if he was trying to riddle out the secret to life.

“Dean.”

Castiel’s voice was quiet, and it had the effect of making Sam and Rowen looked toward the angel as well. Bobby wondered about his hesitance as Dean asked, “Yeah, man?”

“You _shouldn’t_ be in Carthage, Missouri at 8 on Thursday.” 

Bobby stared at the angel in shock, and no one else was doing much better. Dean struggled for words, and simply asked, “ _What_?”

Castiel straightened and grabbed Dean’s shoulder looking him dead in the eyes making it clear he had to listen. 

“On Thursday, you _shouldn’t be_ in Carthage, Missouri at 8 in the evening. It would be _even worse_ if you had a way to take down Crowley if he turns on us. Do you understand, Dean? _Don’t_ come.”

With that Castiel stood up and eyed Sam and Dean with a guarded look, and then turned his eyes to him. Bobby could see the pleading in his blue eyes and knew what the angel was asking: Don’t let Azrial know how you found out. Bobby nodded, and Castiel left the room to let them talk amongst themselves, and likely so he could have deniability about anything they planned. Dean stared after the angel-like he’d just been given the winning lotto numbers. The information sunk in and Dean’s smile was downright predatory.

“We have work to do.”

Those words spurred them all into action, and the four of them started planning for the fight they’d initially been banned from.

**Line Break**

Rowen sighed as he rubbed his eyes. Sam, Dean, and Bobby had gone out on a supply run with Castiel in tow. Since Azrial was supposed to come here and get the younger angel when she wanted him for their meeting, Castiel had been helping them prepare ammo and never saying a word. It took guts to do what he did, and Rowen just hoped the older angel wouldn’t come down too hard on Castiel when all was said and done. It seemed that if Crowley wasn’t in the picture Castiel never would have given them the location, but the demon’s presence put the angel on edge. Rowen couldn’t blame Castiel, he’d disobey in a situation like that as well. 

“I see Castiel isn’t here.”

The soft female voice had Rowen jumping to his feet and pulling his Magnum without thought. Azrial raised an eyebrow at the weapon leveled at her chest.

“Is that how you always greet a woman, Anderson?”

Her voice carried a coy tone and Rowen scowled as he holstered the gun once more.

“Perhaps if you didn’t sneak up on everyone you’d get a warmer welcome.”

With his snapped comment, he picked his bible back up and continued to page through it ignoring the archangel. It was hard to focus on the words though with her presence. She smelled like _poison_ , Belladonna perhaps? Maybe something more deadly. Yet sweet, like so many poisons that could send you to an early grave. It set him on edge and that said nothing about her power. He heard her move and pick something up with a small hum.

“I haven’t seen _this_ face in a long time.”

Rowen’s eyes shot up to look at the archangel. For the first time, he noticed she was wearing a dark blue long sleeve dress that cut off at her knees, but that mattered little to him. His eyes shot to the photo in her hand and he dropped his bible to snatch it back.

“Can you _not_ be in everyone’s business?”

Rowen couldn’t keep the annoyance out of his voice as he slipped the photo back into his bible. Then her comment brought him up short, and his eyes narrowed on the nonplussed archangel. 

“Wait, you recognize her?”

No, Rowen thought tiredly, you promised you wouldn’t ask about her. Another part of him countered that he hadn’t until she’d already brought it up, and Rowen realized he couldn’t stop himself.

“Of course,” Azrial answered. 

Rowen hesitated and pulled the photo back out, and handed it to Azrial. The archangel took it staring down at the woman with a neutral expression. 

“Do you know what happened to her? To Lily?”

He finally asked the question, and Rowen wondered if he had made a horrible choice at the way Azrial snorted. She set the photo of the women in a simple white dress back on the table.

“I do. She was one of the many reapers who reported to me after all.”

Rowen felt his mouth go dry and stared at the archangel. He couldn’t find the words to ask Azrial _anything_. The archangel leaned forward so her bright eyes were staring into him once more.

“Surprised, Anderson? That the _woman_ you married was actually a _reaper_?”

It was that same feeling of being looked through that he’d had when they’d first met, and Rowen _hated_ it. There was something about Azrial that was more unsettling than any demon he’d ever encountered. Was it because she was so closely linked with death? He never considered himself afraid of dying, but in front of Azrial, he second-guessed himself.

“How?”

He finally posed the question, and Azrial hummed and once more backed away from him. His eyes fell to the photo of the dark-haired, blue-grey eyed beauty in the photo. He should be angry, but all he could find were questions.

“Do I look like I know, or care, how you stole one of my reaper’s heart and convinced her to marry you?”

The boredom and mild annoyance were clear in her voice. Rowen couldn’t fault that question, so he tried again.

“You said was, then is she-”

“She died in 1986. Shame really, she was a good reaper if nothing else.”

Rowen stared at the emotionless archangel and tried to comprehend what she’d said. Her words put an end to 25 years of wondering with little care to his emotions. Lily had been dead _twenty-three years_ , and he’d never known. 

“Why can’t I remember her? How did she die? Why can’t I-”

“Wow, slow down there tiger. One question at a time.”

Azrial sounded slightly amused at his rambled questions, and Rowen’s mouth snapped shut as he realized what he’d been doing. He frowned at how quickly he’d dived into the topic, but it was too late now. 

“How did she die?”

That was the most important question to him right now. He needed closure on this topic so he could fully seal it in his past.

“From what I understand, she was killed on an errand for a demon.”

Ice crept up Rowen’s spine and he stared at Azrial in shock. 

“Why the _hell_ would she be working with a demon?”

“Well, that has to do with why you don’t remember her. Apparently, your handsome self died back in ‘83, and she just couldn’t bring herself to reap you.”

There was a soft mocking tone to her voice, and Rowen glared at Azrial. Why was she so damn uncaring? Rowen pushed his annoyance at her aside and pushed forward.

“I died? I don’t remember that. How did it happen?”

“I’ll give you three guesses how the Vatican’s most skilled exorcist was killed, the first two don’t count.”

Rowen shut his eyes with an aggravated sigh, “A demon.”

“Ding, ding, we have a winner!”

Rowen opened his eyes and looked at her smiling face, but he noticed it didn’t reach her eyes. If anything her eyes reflected a deep annoyance at the topic. That made sense considering she’d lost a worker by the time all was said and done.

“Why involve a demon then? She could just choose to let me live.”

“Oh, honey, it doesn’t work like that. Only three people can make that call and she wasn’t one of them. So she did the only thing she could do, brokered a deal and you walked away none the wiser.”

Rowen was silent for several moments and tried to consider what to say next. 

“That doesn’t make sense. Reapers don’t have souls, do they?”

“No, but they can provide services. There are few demons that would pass up the opportunity to have a seasoned reaper on payroll.” 

Rowen felt a wave of disgust wash over him at the glib way Azrial explained the situation. Did she have no sympathy for the reaper who’d died? Or perhaps Rowen was putting too much of himself into this. The wave of guilt at the realization that the smiling woman in the photo hadn’t abandoned him, but rather died for him was hard to stomach. He’d _given up_ on finding out about her, and it turned out she’d given her life for his. Had he failed himself, failed God? Was this a test that he’d fallen short on?

“You’re overthinking this.”

Rowen was startled by the easy way Azrial spoke, and he stared at her for a few seconds.

“Can you read minds among all the other things you can do?”

“I can, but I’m not. Your face gives you away, Anderson. You’re a bleeding heart.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I thought angels had some capacity to love?”

Azrial laughed a sharp loud sound that made Rowen wonder if she could laugh _normally_.

“Sometimes I ask myself the same thing.”

Her voice had taken on a strange tone. Suddenly all the mocking and holier then thou attitude dissipated, and for a moment Rowen could pretend she was simply a jaded hunter. Someone who’d lost everything to the supernatural and was far too tired to deal with the oncoming apocalypse. Rowen even made out a deep sadness in her eyes and felt compelled to say something. Somehow he preferred her acting like a bitch than appearing far too close to human for his comfort.

“Well, I’m sure being around a demon constantly doesn’t help answer that question.”

He expected her to get mad, but instead, she laughed. Not the sharp laughs or cold sounds he came to associate with her. It was light, it lit up her whole face and for a moment Rowen could understand why angels were sometimes documented as _beautiful_. 

Like glass though, the moment shattered as a heavy demonic aura entered the room. Azrial’s eyes seemed to spark to life as she turned to Crowley who spoke coolly.

“We’re running late, Azrial.”

“Well then, we should get going. It was nice speaking to you, Anderson.”

The archangel stood up and walked toward Crowley who was glaring at him, and as if to spite him the demon grabbed the archangel and the two vanished from sight. Azrial hadn’t tried to brush Crowley’s arm away, or even snap at him for the manhandling. Rowen’s mood soured and he firmly reminded himself:

It could be the most _beautiful_ flower in the world, but it wouldn’t make it any less _poisonous_ , and that’s what Azrial was.

Belladonna given human form. 


	13. Countdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's chapter is a bit short, but the next one will be longer to make up for it. See you all next Saturday!

_Thursday, December 17, 2009_

**(18:30)**

Dean tried to avoid looking at the blazing sunset in front of him as he drove. It seemed to mock him with each ray of light that melted into darkness. Something sinister hung in the air, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. The soft flutter of snow didn’t help his morose mood.

“Are we doing the right thing?”

Sam’s voice was soft, and Dean almost didn’t hear his brother. Bobby hummed from the backseat, and Dean didn’t have to look to know Rowen was thinking about his brother’s question.

“We’re about to help beat the crap outta the Devil. I think that constitutes the ‘right’ thing.”

“Dean, you know-” Sam sighed and shook his head looking out the window, “Nevermind.”

Dean frowned at his brother’s tone, but let it slide. They were doing the right thing. They wouldn’t leave Castiel to face Lucifer with an archangel they barely knew and her pet demon. No way in Hell.

**(19:00)**

Castiel watched passively as his sister dug through a trunk of items. Crowley wasn’t around, and he thanked Father for it. With a small ‘aha!’ Azrial sat up pulling out two angel blades.

“I knew I had extras lying around. They’d made their way onto the black market a few years back. Here, you should really have a spare.”

Castiel took the blade after several seconds, but had nowhere to put it. Azrial reached back down and pulled out a belt with two holders on it.

“This should be big enough for you, if not I’ll rig something. Make sure your shirt is covering them.”

“Of course.”

He took the leather belt as his sister turned back to digging through the trunk. With each happy exclamation or curious comment the guilt he felt faded. Crowley was a demon, and as soon as a better opportunity came along he’d turn on Azrial without a thought. She had been _family_ , and as the Winchesters and Bobby taught him, real family stuck together. When Crowley finally betrayed them Castiel would be there to help his sister and put an end to the demonic nuisance. 

**(19:30)**

Crowley ignored Castiel’s distrustful gaze, who was looking every bit a flannel covered nightmare, in favor of watching Azrial. She slipped her archangel blade into a modified gun holster that kept the blade close to her side. She grabbed her spare angel blade, slipping it into the holster on her left side. The archangel looked focused, and there was a sharp awareness in her dark blue eyes. He could almost see every calculation and possible choice play through her mind and offered, “Drink, darling?”

Her eyes turned toward him, and he swore he’d only seen her this serious once before, and that’s when they’d parted ways three years ago.

“Not this time, Crowley. I’ll have to take an IOU.”

Azrial turned toward the small mirror and with a speed that spoke of muscle memory, her fingers started twisting her hair into a loose braid. It wouldn’t hold up too much, but it kept it out of her face and out of her way. He’d never seen her do it before, but the nostalgic look that passed over Castiel’s face spoke volumes.

After tonight there would be no more need to _hide_. Lucifer would be swept aside or running in fear. Either way, all of their plans were going to come to fruition. 

He’d be cashing in on that IOU as soon as they got back.

**(19:35)**

Azrial stared at herself for several moments and wondered if she could really do this. When was the last time she’d seen Lucifer? It had been thousands of years. Would he attack her outright, or would he be too shocked? She shoved the questions down and caught Crowley watching her in the mirror and wished she knew what was going through his head. They were so close, and all she had to do was finish this. Disarm or kill was the name of the game. She knew it well, and she was near an expert at this point in her long life.

Then why was there a sense of dread settling in the back of her mind? As if nothing good would come out of this confrontation.

“Drink, darling?”

Crowley’s voice carried his own tension though, she doubted Castiel noticed. She wondered if her brother was prepared for what was coming. She hoped he wasn’t doing this out of spite or desperation, she had no desire to bury him. Azrial turned toward Crowley, “Not this time, Crowley. I’ll have to take an IOU.”

The heavy feeling settled in her chest, and she swore to herself they’d both make it back for that drink. She’d give the world to make sure no one died on this mission.

After all, she was a commander. The God Spear. She’d never lost troops before, and she wouldn’t start now.

**(19:45)**

It had been hours since Sam had poised his question, and Bobby couldn’t help but ponder it longer than Lord knew he should have. Were they doing the right thing, or were they just walking to their deaths against the advice of someone who knew what they were facing?

Dean wouldn’t have been convinced otherwise once Castiel spilled the location of the meeting, and Bobby would _burn_ before he let his boys go out and face Lucifer alone. 

“Bobby?”

Rowen’s voice was quiet, so quite he knew the boys wouldn’t hear it over the music that was blaring in a vain attempt to block out the silence. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

Bobby’s brow furrowed, and he muttered back, “The hell you on about?”

“I’m sorry about the fight yesterday. I’m sorry about the fight 30 years ago, and I’m sorry about having to ask you this.”

Bobby stiffened. They had an unspoken agreement _never_ to speak about that fight, and the fact Rowen was bringing it up now almost scared him.

“What?”

“If I die, tell Sue I’m sorry. When faced with an open door, I couldn’t stop myself from walking through.”

Bobby tried to comprehend what Rowen was saying, but nothing clicked. Especially with how sad the man sounded. It was like he’d gone against his beliefs.

“Tell her your damn self,” Bobby paused and added, “As far as the fights, the one yesterday was my temper. The one 30 years ago,” Bobby ran a hand over his face and whispered, “It wasn’t how it should have gone but it was inevitable, Rowen. We both damn well know that.”

Silence greeted his statement even as Rowen bumped his knee against his in silent understanding. Somewhere along the line, the man had been proven right. Things had stopped being black and white, and Bobby realized they were staring down a storm of grey.

**(19:50)**

Rowen remained silent after his words to Bobby. The list of regrets he had was short. He put that down to his faith and was grateful for never drowning in what-ifs or should-haves. Yet in the past 24 hours, two of his only regrets had crawled back into the present with a vengeance. One of them sat next to him. He never forgave himself for that fight 30 years ago, even if Bobby had forgiven him. He’d been cruel, hurtful, and had been in a horrible mental place. When all was said in done he and Bobby hadn’t spoken for a year. When he finally swung by again, he’d gotten decked in the face and then offered a beer.

It was never mentioned again.

Then there was Lily.

The woman who turned out to be a reaper. The _reaper_ who had _died_ to save his life when he’d likely botched an exorcism. Sold her life, because it was a life no matter what a hunter may tell him, to allow him to live his own. Yet he couldn’t remember a thing about her.

Did she like sunsets? Did she laugh at his corny jokes? Was she gentle or abrasive? Had she hoped to stay with him until his end? Did she _love_ him?

He hated himself for letting those questions swirl in his head, and he pulled out his phone and began typing out a text message. Something about this situation, about the way the sunset bled rather than shone brightly, that put him on edge. It felt like a final walk, and he swore that he’d clean the slate if he made it out of this.

“Please, God,” he whispered with his head hanging as he stared down at the apology on his phone, “Don’t let this be in vain.”

**(19:55)** ****

Sam was scared.

Not for himself, no he’d stopped fearing for his own life when he’d unleashed Lucifer on the world. He couldn’t forgive himself for that and was willing to walk to his death if it meant putting the bastard down.

He feared for Dean. For Bobby and Cas. For Rowen who seemed repentant from the moment they’d gotten on the road. 

He even found himself, reluctantly, fearing for Crowley and Azrial. 

Lucifer was toxic. He was manipulative and cruel, and Sam didn’t need Azrial to tell him that. The bastard was in his dreams enough to pick up on those facts. Come hell or high water Sam swore he’d see the end of Lucifer. 

“Looks like we’re here.”

Dean’s voice was heavy, and Sam stared out the window at the disturbingly empty town. It shouldn’t be this quiet, or this empty.

“Well, let’s suit up.”

Sam tried to sound hopeful, really he did, but it came out wary.

They’d all walk away from this. They had to. All he could do was have faith.

**(20:00)**

Bright eyes stared down at the deep hole, and cracked lips curled cruelly as a dark voice sang. “It’s showtime, everyone.”


	14. Battle Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/CW: Blood, body gore, cursing, relationship shaming. 
> 
> Tis the Eve of National Novel Writing Month. I'll be participating again this year, so to all who will be as well, good luck!
> 
> The next chapter will have some artwork to go with it! Enjoy the chapter.

_December 17, 2009_

Azrial took a deep breath of the cold night air as she slowly approached the ritual site. The snow crunched under her feet, and she could see her breath in the air. Her brother was truly dramatic. Or perhaps he just wasn’t restraining his powers. Thankfully, her own power was rather cold in nature as well.

The cold could still burn you though, and Azrial wouldn’t let that thought leave her mind.

Azrial stopped several feet in front of Lucifer, her hands tucked into her pockets as she waited for him to acknowledge her presence. She stretched out her senses to make sure Castiel and Crowley were in place and gave a mental sigh of relief when she found them where they should be. Lucifer turned toward her, and Azrial looked past the rotting flesh of the dying vessel to truly look at her brother. His form was cracked, but still, somehow beautiful, proof that even now he was one of their Father’s favored creations. Even if her brother couldn’t see it.

“Azrial? Now this, _this_ is a surprise.”

Azrial couldn’t help the twitch of her lips at Lucifer’s statement. He sounded pleasantly surprised at the turn of events. 

“It’s good to see you, Lucifer.”

It was, even as she kept an eye on his every move and prepared herself for a strike, it was good to see her brother. She’d missed her family, and she’d take this moment of strange normality before it all went to shit. Lucifer laughed, truly laughed, and Azrial forced herself to look once more at his vessel. His form was so damn _bright_. Like a raging sunset.

“Only good? No, this is _fantastic_! Did you know Michael accused me of sororicide?”

“What?”

Azrial couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice. Did they not know how she’d died either? Even if it didn’t stick, it was more than a bit insulting to her and Lucifer that Michael had leveled such an accusation. 

“Oh yes. Seems dear old Michael forgot how those fights always went. Rude, no?”

Lucifer chuckled and then tilted his head at her smiling all the while. “It’s _good_ to see you alive, Azrial. Please, promise you’ll let me tell Michael I told you so.”

Azrial had to remind herself that this wasn’t the Lucifer she remembered. He was _playing_ her, she could tell, and for a few moments she’d fallen for it. His pleased tone wouldn’t last when she told him why she was there.

“Perhaps.”

Lucifer chuckled at her answer, and Azrial raised an eyebrow and her brother waved his hand.

“It’s so like you. Perhaps,” he made air quotes and smirked at her, “You’re the embodiment of neutrality, Azrial. I can’t help but respect that. Death must be proud.”

There was that condescending tone she’d been expecting. Azrial tilted her head and asked, “Is that so?”

“You think I’d lie to you, little sister?”

Lucifer tried to sound hurt, but the flash of annoyance in his eyes gave him away. Azrial snorted and shrugged.

“I don’t know. It’s been a long time, Lucifer. You’re only the third angel I’ve seen since The Fall.”

Her brother raised a surprised eyebrow at the declaration, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“What? Did you think you and your flock were the only ones who got the Heavenly boot? Please.”

The bitterness that crept into her voice was real, and she saw the calculating gleam in her brother’s eyes. Good, at least she’d know what he was planning.

“What a shame. I’m sorry you had to go through that, Azrial. I can understand your anger.”

He sounded so genuine. She could see how so many had fallen to his silver tongue over the years, but she refused to be one of her brother’s victims.

“I’ve moved on.”

“So it seems. I must thank you, Azrial. Your presence was more than enough of a gift, yet you’ve brought me so many wonderful toys!”

Lucifer’s giddy voice set her on edge, but Azrial didn’t show her surprise at his statement. Her brother grinned and looked past her.

“You brought my perfect vessel with you, and Michael’s as well. Truly, I couldn’t have asked for more from you. Not to mention a _Saint_! Azrial, you’re spoiling me.”

Azrial was going to kill them. She was going to kill Sam and Dean Winchester and scatter their bones to the wind for this. It took all over her training to remain calm, but her fists clenched in her pockets at Lucifer’s words.

“Of course,” her brother continued easily, slowly closing the distance between them, “I’ve known Castiel was here the whole time. He’s been so _polite_ though, so I let him be.”

“How generous.”

It took everything she had not to growl those words. Lucifer was now only three feet in front of her, and she almost lashed out as he tapped her nose. It was something he’d done countless times before The Fall, but now it felt patronizing, and she didn’t want her brother this close. 

“Aren’t I? Now,” he paused and frowned, “there is a demonic aura here. Oh, I know who _that_ is. Delivering a traitor on top of all you’ve already done is overkill, Azrial. You’re already my favorite.” 

“What can I say,” Azrial couldn’t keep her voice calm anymore; it wavered slightly and Lucifer smirked at her. “I’ve always been a people pleaser.”

“Oh Azrial, don’t _lie_. You were never any good at it.”

Lucifer’s mocking tone made her bristle and Azrial simply countered, “Maybe you should have taught me better.”

“I can’t do anything with a poor student, can I?” 

Azrial narrowed her eyes as she watched Lucifer’s body shift slightly, and his grin became predatory as he looked her dead in the eye, “Now, to stack the deck in my favor.”

Azrial cursed as he vanished, and she didn’t even need to look to see what he was going to do. She willed herself in front of his target and grimaced as an angel blade cut deeply into her shoulder.

Well, that had gone to shit quickly.

**Line break**

Dean hated how quiet it was. As they slowly approached he could see Azrial and Lucifer speaking calmly to each other. The first time the bastard laughed Dean swore his heart had skipped a much-needed beat. That was a sound he _never_ wanted to hear again.

“Wish we could hear what they are saying.”

Sam muttered the statement as he clutched his gun tightly. Dean hummed as they stopped and watched the interaction. There was still enough distance that they shouldn’t be noticeable. 

“Can’t be anything good. Do you see the tension in her shoulders? She’s ready for an attack.”

Rowen’s voice was firm, and Dean looked at Azrial’s back with narrowed eyes. The man was right. Lucifer seemed to shift, and Dean’s eyes widened as the fallen angel vanished. 

“What, where did he-”

“Dean!”

Sam’s voice sounded terrified, and Dean’s eyes widened as he saw Lucifer grinning and a blade coming toward his heart. He couldn’t move, it was all happening too fast. He shut his eyes, not wanting to see the bastard’s grin as he died.

The feeling of something warm and wet splattering against his face made Dean open his eyes. The head of raven hair at chest height didn’t actually click for several seconds. The smell of copper was strong in the air and his hand raised to his face to wipe away whatever had splattered him. His fingers pulled back and he stared at the red liquid that coated them.

“Father only knows why I’m even _helping_ you, you suicidal morons.”

Azrial’s muttered comment was furious, and Dean’s eyes fell to her shoulder which was torn to shreds. There were thick pieces of skin hanging loose, and blood was soaking her white shirt. She didn’t pay it any mind though. Lucifer narrowed his eyes at them and huffed.

“Really? Are you _really_ going to ruin my good day? I haven’t exactly had many of those.”

He sounded like a child who’d been told no. Dean wanted to say something, but his eyes kept falling to Azrial’s shoulder instead. It was like his brain couldn’t process what the archangel had done. Suddenly the raven-haired archangel launched herself at Lucifer, her blade drawn in seconds. The fallen angel’s eyes widened and he took several steps back as Azrial’s blade came close to slitting his throat. 

“Damnit, Azrial, calm _down_. It’s just a human.”

Lucifer sounded like he was trying to placate his sister, and the next strike almost cut his ear off in retaliation. Sam grabbed his shoulder as Castiel joined Azrial and drove Lucifer further away from them,

“Dean, snap _out of it_. We’ve gotta get out of here.”

Dean turned as Sam pulled him and he could see the _fear_ on the faces of the others. That had been too close, and suddenly he felt like this was the worst idea he’d ever had. The four of them took off toward the car trying to ignore the fighting angels.

When the distinct howl of hellhounds filled the air, Dean realized they were completely boned.

**Line Break**

Crowley was going to kill those flannel covered morons. He ducked out of sight as more demons started to arrive, and cursed Lucifer to hell and back for involving other demons. He knew the group was armed to the teeth and could handle themselves against a handful of runts.

Then the howl of hellhounds filled the air.

“Bollocks.”

Crowley shut his eyes and gave a sharp whistle. If those bastards wanted to play hard, he was more than willing to put their mutts in an early grave in return. He wouldn’t let this entire mission go to shit just because a few humans couldn’t leave well enough alone. A heavy body brushing against him made him smirk, and his eyes opened and zeroed in on the demons.

“Sic em.”

The hound snarled and launched toward the fight, and Crowley withdrew the angel blade Azrial had hastily shoved into his hand before all this bullshit started. He’d been hoping to observe and stay out of the fight, and now he was going to show his hand.

Just lovely.

He chanced a glance at the fighting archangels and noticed Castiel had joined Azrial in pushing Lucifer back. Her shoulder was torn to shreds, and that shirt would have to be burned but she seemed fine otherwise. He smirked as Lucifer had to duck as Azrial came dangerously close to slitting his throat. Good. Maybe this situation was salvageable after all.

**Line Break**

Rowen was pretty sure this was how he’d die.

You didn’t get to be a well-renowned exorcist and not expect a demon to kill you somewhere down the line. He just didn’t expect a _hoard_ of demons.

“Keep moving!”

Rowen yelled back to the Winchesters and Bobby as he shot one of the demons square between the eyes. He felt horrible as the body fell to the ground as the demon died but there wasn’t anything he could do. If it were one or two demons he could maybe exorcise them, but the 15 they were facing? No. No one was that good. Dean was shooting back when he could, but they needed to make more progress. He took a deep breath and yelled back, “I’ll hold them off, keep moving!”

“Are you crazy? They’ll-”

“GO!”

He shouted over Bobby’s objection and shot another demon who thought they could get close during the argument. When the three men started moving, Rowen focused his attention fully on the demons in front of him.

“Well, I’ve wanted to use this for a while.”

He pulled the hefty weapon that he’d holstered near his hip and aimed at the demon who rolled their eyes.

“And what are you going to do with _that_ , Anderson? Really, this is-”

Rowen pulled back the heavy trigger and sent the grenade straight into the demon’s face as he ducked further away. The grenade impacted and shattered into a spray of blessed shrapnel as Rowen tried to put more distance between himself and the hoard. A heavy body slammed into his, and Rowen found himself struggling to breath as the invisible creature above him snarled. It’s paw was square on his chest, and he could feel his ribs cracking under the pressure as he tried to get an angle to shoot the creature. Rowen pressed his body as close to the ground as he could at the snap of fangs, and finally shot the magnum causing the creature above him to yelp, but it didn’t get off as it took another snap at his head, it’s claws digging deeply into his chest.

The weight vanished suddenly, and Rowen took a shuddering breath as he stared up at the snow falling down on him for several seconds. He could hear the sound of dogs fighting, and realized the thing that attacked him must be a hellhound. How was he still alive?

Rowen was yanked up from the ground by a none too gentle hand. He staggered as he struggled to regain his footing and was shoved in the direction that the others had headed.

“Get out of here, moron.”

Rowen’s vision took several seconds to refocus, and he found himself staring at Crowley in surprise. The demon looked impatient as he continued to look back at the fight, ignoring the ground being torn up by the fighting hellhounds only a few feet away. 

“Crowley-”

The demon turned on him with a furious red gaze, and Rowen swallowed and realized he should be counting his blessings that the crossroads demon hadn’t left him to his grisly fate.

“For once in your _damn_ life, listen and get the hell out of here!”

Rowen didn’t have to be told twice; he turned to leave when he saw Crowley stiffen, his head snapping to look toward the fight. Crowley ground out the next word and Rowen was shocked to hear fear creep into the demon’s voice, “Run.”

A moment later Crowley vanished, and Rowen heard the fighting behind him stop. He took Crowley’s advice; after all, he didn’t want to know what could scare the demon that badly. 

**Line Break**

Lucifer scowled as he dodged another strike. His mood had taken a sharp downturn, and Azrial was tiring him out. It didn’t help that anytime his sister moved out of striking range Castiel was up his ass. He’d heard the angel had let himself go, but this damn fight made Lucifer add the demon who told him that lie to his ‘to do’ list.

“Damnit, Azrial! Stop this!”

She scowled and the blade shifted mid strike, and Lucifer’s eyes widened as the scythe came speeding toward his neck. Was she actually out to kill him? As he ducked he saw the hesitance in her gaze and narrowed his eyes. Perhaps there was still an option. For now he needed a shield. His eyes looked past Azrial to see Crowley shoving the Saint back toward the Winchesters and glared. A traitor would certainly make a good human shield. 

Azrial took another deadly swing, and Castiel went for his side. He was only able to dodge his sister’s blade and hissed in pain as Castiel cut deeply into his side.

“That’s it!”

Lucifer couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice as he yanked as hard as he could on Crowley’s demonic power. He didn’t like to advertise he had this level of control over the demons, but if it meant saving his life he’d live with it. He could feel Crowley fighting him, but with another harsh tug the demon was in his grip and Azrial’s blade froze. Shock painted her face for a moment, and then she looked downright pissed off. Lucifer tightened his grip on Crowley’s neck, relishing the small hiss of discomfort from the trapped demon.

“Really,” he couldn’t quite keep the disbelief out of his voice, “You two are stopping for _Crowley_?”

Castiel looked stiff, and he shot Azrial a questioning look. Lucifer narrowed his eyes as he made sure Crowley was blocking a majority of his body. Azrial’s blade shifted back to its default form, and Lucifer wondered if the demon had been smart enough to bargain with his sister for safety. She’d always been one to keep her word, something he never understood. 

He smirked at her and snorted in amusement, “Come on, Azrial. I’m feeling better about my odds now. Let’s keep going!”

She scowled, and to his surprise gave a dismissive wave to Castiel. The angel seemed pissed over the dismissal, but he obeyed and Lucifer frowned as he saw Castiel appearing near the Winchesters. That wouldn’t do.

“I thought you had more _pride_ than this, Lucifer. Or perhaps you’re just afraid of me.”

Lucifer scowled and almost snapped back, but then he noticed her knuckles were practically white around her blade. Why was she suddenly so tense? Even during the fight before she hadn’t gripped her blade that hard. He tightened his grip on Crowley’s shoulder making the demon hiss in pain, and he saw her nails dig into her hand as her grip tightened further,

“You’re hesitating,” Lucifer accused, surprised at the realization, “don’t tell me you’ve gotten attached to this pathetic traitor. What did you do, sleep with him?”

He laughed at his own joke, knowing it was nothing of the sort. Azrial was far too prideful to lower herself like that. He lifted his eyes as he got his laughter undercontrol to see Azrial’s face white as the snow falling around them. His laughter died in his throat as he stared at her in horror.

No. 

No, there was _no way_.

Lucifer dug his nails into Crowley’s shoulder, and he could feel blood coating his fingers. He didn’t care. He couldn’t even enjoy the pained exhale from the demon he was holding onto, not when his sister looked like a startled doe.

“You’re joking. Azrial, tell me you’re _joking_.”

It wasn’t a question. Why would it be? She had to be fucking with him for the sake of it. The startled look on her face didn’t disappear though and horror gave way to disgust.

“Azrial, _come on_ ,” Lucifer couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice, “I know getting booted outta the nest sucks but this? That’s ugh, it’s _gross._ ”

Azrial’s face went from pale to red, and she looked furious. Lucifer scoffed, and he was about to open his mouth when a scream echoed from near where the Winchesters had run off. A moment later there was nothing but silence, and Lucifer growled.

“I swear, good help is _so_ hard to come by these days.”

He prepared to move closer to the Winchesters, and tightened his grip on Crowley. If his sister wanted to have _stupid_ and _disgusting_ attachements, so be it. He’d solve that problem while keeping her from attacking him outright. Azrial knew better, and he’d remind her of that even if it meant splattering Crowley’s blood across the snow.

Truthfully, that was his preferred method anyway.

**Line break**

Sam almost shot Castiel when he appeared near them. The angel didn’t look surprised, and strode over to Rowen who was barely staying on his feet with Bobby and Dean’s help,

“We need to move. I’ll heal the worst of your wounds, but then all of you need to leave.”

Rowen tensed as Castiel touched his chest, but a moment later it was clear whatever he’d done had helped immensely. The exorcist stood up straighter, and didn’t need Dean to help hold him up. It was clear he was still injured because when Bobby tried to pull away Rowen almost collapsed. Castiel turned his eyes toward Dean, and Sam saw the flash of surprise.

“Are you bleeding?”

“Wha-? No.”

“Your face is covered in blood.”

Castiel’s matter of fact answer caused Dean to wince. Sam remembered the angel hadn’t _seen_ how that had happened. Castiel dismissed it as he shot a wary look behind him.

“You need to go. I’ll help-”

Castiel stopped speaking and spun around just as Lucifer appeared in front of them. He was gripping Crowley by the demon’s bloody shoulder and looked murderous. Sam froze as Lucifer raised his free hand, but a moment later Azrial appeared in front of them and Lucifer’s hand froze. Why though? Why was he hesitating to kill his sister? That wasn’t like the fallen archangel. 

Lucifer huffed and spoke softly, “Alright, good day over. You just had to push my damn buttons, didn’t you?”

That question was clearly directed at Azrial, but she growled softly not bothering to respond to the bait. Lucifer tisked and continued.

“I thought I was on a roll. Sam was here, Dean was good as dead, my sister is alive, and I had a Saint to corrupt!”

Sam felt fear creeping up his spine at the psychotically happy voice Lucifer was using. The happiness melting off Lucifer’s face was like flipping a switch, and he looked furious. His voice had dropped an octave as he ground out.

“But no. No, that would be _too perfect_. Instead, I find you _idiots_ interrupting my damn ritual, and that my sister is sleeping with a _demon_.”

Sam’s eyes widened, and his eyes shot to Azrial. He could only see part of her face with the way she’d positioned herself in front of them, but he saw the flash of anger in her eyes at being called out. He knew he couldn’t talk, God knew he couldn’t, but at the same time Sam couldn’t help the wave of disgust that washed over him. His eyes moved and he saw the same disgust Lucifer was showing mirrored on Castiel’s face, and Azrial hissed.

“What? Mad I got laid while you were rotting in the cage?”

The words had an immediate effect on Lucifer. His grip on Crowley’s shoulder tightened, and a sickening crack filled the space between them. Azrial’s back was ridgeded as Crowley exhaled in pain. It was clear to Sam the proud demon was doing everything he could not to give Lucifer the satisfaction of hearing him scream. That crack though couldn’t have been anything good. Lucifer’s voice lost some of his hostility as he spoke once more.

“Cute, Azrial. Real cute,” he paused and swept his eyes over them and asked, “Want to know the kicker in all this?''

The question was directed to all of them, and when no one answered Lucifer began to lecture them.

“I’m sure my darling sister told all you idiots not to be here. She’s a perfectionist like that. That means whatever happens from here on out is on you. Proof humanity doesn’t deserve an angel’s mercy.”

Lucifer’s words slammed into Sam, and he couldn’t help but acknowledge the truth in them. They shouldn’t have been here. It was apparent to him when Castiel and Azrial were fighting, and it became undeniable when Azrial took Lucifer’s blow to save Dean’s life. This fight, it was beyond them. It wasn’t something they should have been involved in once they had a willing fighter. It was like hiring an assassin and then insisting on doing the job yourself. So why were they here?

Sam’s eyes shifted to his brother who appeared almost as tense as Azrial. Still covered in blood and grime, Dean looked murderous. Sam knew in this case it was to hide his fear, and wished he’d spoken against this plan. Wished the four of them were as far away from this damn fight as possible.

He wished his brother was safe.

Lucifer’s hand seemed to glow, and without warning Crowley screamed in agony. Lucifer seemed giddy at finally getting a response, and Sam didn’t want to imagine the pain Crowley was in to give it. 

When the screaming ended Lucifer spoke, “So I’m going to tear this _traitor_ apart, oh and then I’m going to splatter Dean’s pretty little face all over the pavement. Maybe then you’ll say yes, huh Sammy? Say yes to save your brother.”

Lucifer sounded thrilled at the idea, and Sam felt sick as Crowley screamed again and Lucifer dug the angel blade he’d found into the demon’s shoulder. Sam could see the moment Azrial’s control snapped, and a feeling of dread washed over him.

“Enough! Just _stop_ , Lucifer!”

Azrial sounded desperate, and Sam wished she didn’t. He wished she’d been able to keep hold of her emotions a little longer because he saw the calculating look enter Lucifer’s eyes as he stopped torturing Crowley.

“Why would I do that, Azrial?”

Azrial’s blade was still gripped in her fingers, and Sam swore his heart stopped as she sheathed the blade and said firmly.

“Just let him go, Lucifer.”

Lucifer tilted his head, and there was another sharp crack. Crowley hacked up blood and his head dropped as he coughed trying to breathe through the pain. There was no more screaming though, and Sam found himself grateful for it. His eyes kept darting between the two archangels, and Lucifer broke the silence.

“Why? What’s he worth to you, little sister?”

The mocking tone was there for all to hear, and Sam could see the way Azrial’s body sagged in defeat. He couldn’t understand why she was so keen to protect Crowley, but he knew had Dean been in that position there wasn’t anything Lucifer would ask that he’d say no too. 

That thought was terrifying, because Azrial may just choose to sell them out to save Crowley.

“What do you want?”

Lucifer outright laughed at the question, but as his gaze settled on Azrial he looked strangely fascinated by her behavior. 

“Is this what it’s coming to? Bargaining for a _demon's_ life? A traitor no less?” Azrial didn’t respond and Lucifer’s voice took on a condescending tone, “Seems the God Spear has grown _brittle_ ; Michael would be _so disappointed_.”

Azrial didn’t respond to the jibe and she asked again, “What do you want in exchange for Crowley’s life?”

Lucifer hummed and his eyes scanned them once more. Sam stiffened as Lucifer locked eyes with him, and Sam realized exactly what the archangel would ask for and Sam didn’t know if Azrial would deny her brother.

Not now.

Not when the person she actually seemed to _care_ about was at stake.

“You promised them protection, didn’t you?”

It was like Lucifer was asking about the weather, and Sam felt sick.

“I did.”

Azrial’s response was quiet, tense and short. Lucifer smirked and waved his blade,

“Well, you were always good for your word.”

Azrial was silent for several moments and asked, “So?”

“Break it.”

The silence was heavy, and Sam swore the snow was making more sound than anyone in the clearing. 

“Lucifer, what do you-”

Lucifer cut off Azrial’s tentative question with a snort of laughter, “I want my vessel, Azrial. So what’s worth more to you, Crowley’s life or your word? You know what _should_ be worth more, but somehow I doubt you’ll do the right thing.”

Lucifer once more locked eyes with him, and Sam knew in his heart this was the end of the line. The fallen angel was confident as he added for clarity, “So Azrial, give me Sam and I’ll let Crowley go. Deal?”


	15. Kingsword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/CW: blood and extreme injuries
> 
> SPECIAL THANKS: 
> 
> The first piece of art was provided by AYEGEE Art: https://www.instagram.com/ayegee_art/?hl=en  
> The second piece was provided by Revelliee: https://www.instagram.com/revelliee/?hl=en
> 
> Check out their art, they are amazing. Enjoy the story!

_December 17, 2009_

Crowley heard the ultimatum and shut his eyes. It hung in the air like poison, and no one spoke for several moments. He knew if nothing else, Azrial was good for her word. So this was how he’d die? That was disappointing, but he knew his death would see Azrial slaughtering Lucifer in retaliation. He was still under her protection, but it had been a long time since they’d had a formal agreement like the one that now existed between Azrial and the Winchesters. So he’d take that small win and simply deny Lucifer the pleasure of seeing how much he was suffering. The bastard could slowly purify him until nothing was left, and at this point, he’d bite his tongue off out of spite. 

“You ain’t coming near my brother, you bastard! Leave us out of your damn family feud, we could care _less_ what happens to Crowley.”

Dean’s voice held nothing but contempt, and Crowley wished he had the energy to roll his eyes. As a sharp burst of grace viciously snapped through his body though, all he could do was bite his tongue to stop from screaming again. Couldn’t the bastard just mutilate him like a normal person?

“Well, that makes two of us, doesn’t it Dean? I want a vessel, Azrial, or I’m going to splatter the _worst_ choice you’ve ever made all over Hell’s throne room.”

Great, now he was being reduced to a choice? Not even vermin? How insulting. He lifted his gaze to see Azrial’s reaction and was surprised at how defeated she looked. Her eyes shut for a moment and she seemed lost in thought. After a moment she spread her arms and opened her eyes speaking quietly, “Then take mine.”

What?

Crowley couldn’t comprehend what Azrial had just offered, and given the strangled sound from Castiel neither could anyone else. He even felt Lucifer’s grip loosen slightly at the confidence in Azrial’s voice.

“Sister, no _demon_ is-”

“Bite your tongue, Castiel,” Azrial snapped, and Crowley could practically feel the anger dripping off her voice. “and remember your place.”

Azrial asked Lucifer again and this time it was colder. “Do we have a deal?”

“Now why would I want your _soiled_ vessel when Sam is standing right there?”

Azrial sighed, and she gave Lucifer a look that clearly showed how little she thought of him for asking that question.

“It’s a soulless vessel, Lucifer.” 

Several seconds of silence followed her words, and Lucifer gave a sharp laugh.

“And all this for _him_?” Crowley growled slightly as his jaw was yanked so he was forced to look directly at Azrial. 

“Do we have a deal?”

The question was repeated once more, but Lucifer just hummed and for the first time spoke directly to him. 

“You must feel special, puppy.”

Crowley wanted to rip Lucifer’s vocal cords out in retaliation for that comment but remained silent at the inflammatory question. Azrial’s stance was relaxed, as if she’d suddenly come up with some grand idea to get them all out of here in one piece. It wasn’t likely, but one could hope.

“Going once.”

Azrial’s voice was harsher, and Crowley wondered if Lucifer was actually going to consider it.

“It’s a bit,” Lucifer paused and Crowley could hear the disgust in his voice, “dirty.”

“Going twice.”

Now there was a bit of annoyance in Azrial’s voice. Lucifer hummed and continued to voice his thoughts. “Then again, I could still start this lovely apocalypse on a high note.”

“Final offer.”

Lucifer sighed dramatically, and his grip loosened even more as he spoke, “Well, you drive a hard bargain. This is your eviction notice, Azrial. Scat and I’ll let the traitor go.”

A strange smile lit up Azrial’s face, and Crowley swore he should know why it looked so familiar.

“Well, seems I’ll have to pass on that drink.”

Those words had Crowley locking eyes with Azrial, and there was a knowing look in her cobalt eyes. Suddenly he could hear the slightest whisper in his mind as he watched her lips move silently, _Do I have your permission?_

Permission? Why the bloody hell would she need-?

It hit him like a well-aimed flask of holy water just as Lucifer asked, “Did you say something Azrial?”

“Yes.”

Crowley’s one-word answer had a predatory smile filling Azrial’s features and she fled her vessel without any warning. Lucifer’s hand almost loosened completely in surprise and Crowley swore this may be the stupidest thing he’d ever done as Azrial’s grace slammed into his body. 

**Line Break**

It was strange, how time inside your head could run slower than in the real world. Crowley looked around the area curiously. He stood near a moonlit lake surrounded by lush green grass in every direction. A mess of silver and black shadow stood in the middle of the water, floating there and causing soft ripples on the water’s surface. There were two distinct silver orbs staring back at him, and despite himself, Crowley relaxed slightly. 

Azrial spoke softly after a few moments, “I must look ridiculous.” 

The mess of light seemed to be trying to take a more distinct form, but the most it could do was look vaguely like a woman with a distinct curve to its form. Azrial gave an aggravated sigh and added, “My form can’t seem to settle in your mind. For a human, I’d look like my vessel, but I guess you had to be special didn’t you?”

Crowley snorted, but could admit this was an interesting development. He’d half expected her to burn him out by jumping in his vessel, but instead, her power seemed to settle around his own like a curtain.

Or a shield, he realized in a moment of clarity.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

Her voice sounded strangely sad, and for a moment Crowley could _feel_ her emotions. It was gone a second later, and Crowley finally thought to respond.

“It doesn’t matter.” 

Azrial hummed, and soon their attention turned outward, the moment lost as they faced-off with an absolutely livid archangel. 

**Line Break** ****

For a moment, there was pure chaos in the clearing. No one understood what had just happened, and then six wings tore open the back of Crowley’s suit and sent Lucifer skidding back in shock. The demon vanished and then appeared in front of the humans with an easy smirk directed at Lucifer. The smirk was a mix of the two beings in the body as it moved flawlessly between the two. The wings stretched slightly as if to shield the humans behind Crowley without having to exert a lot of effort.

“Oh, your face,” Crowley’s voice held more amusement than it would have a moment ago. “You look shocked, Lucifer.”

The direct address caused the archangel to glower, and Crowley’s smirk never faltered. His red eyes were tinged with silver and he didn’t look away from Lucifer’s furious gaze,

“You lying _bitch_! We had a deal!”

Crowley, no Azrial, shrugged as Crowley pulled his lips into a predatory smile. Lucifer watched the synchronization with disgust as the being gave a dismissive wave toward the now kneeling and empty vessel.

“And a deal’s a deal. Please enjoy your new vessel.” 

Lucifer scowled at the being, who simply raised an eyebrow as the archangel began throwing a tantrum.

“How could you, Azrial? He’s a _demon_ , where is your pride?”

The demands were practically screeched, and the being chuckled as black wings settled against their torn suit. Their? Yes, for now, that sounded right. The body was going back and forth at such a rapid pace it was hard to say where one began and another ended without pulling more control. 

“It doesn’t matter,” they began. “You wouldn’t have kept your word, so I simply guaranteed you had to.”

Lucifer scowled, and for a moment silver tinted red eyes were devoured by the angelic color and it was clear Azrial was at the surface. Their voice dropped to a venomous whisper.

“Now why don’t you take your new vessel, and get the hell out of my sight, Lucifer?”

The threat hung in the air as the eyes once more became a mix of colors, and Lucifer growled. They weren’t sure if Lucifer would choose to fight more, but suddenly the archangel fled his rotting vessel in favor of the one kneeling on the ground.

“What the hell have you done? He’s going to kill all of us the moment he’s on his feet!”

They chuckled at Sam’s terrified question, and simply gestured toward the vessel in a clear indication to watch. Lucifer’s grace tried to enter the vessel only for it to ricochet off. It was as if a barrier was around it and the fallen angel couldn’t penetrate it. Lucifer fled back to his original vessel. The moment Lucifer’s eyes opened they were the color of a burning sun.

“Didn’t I mention my vessel had a strict height requirement? What a silly angel I am! Turns out it’s just as picky as one with a soul,” They simpered, grinning at Lucifer.

Lucifer got to his feet and looked murderously at them. It was clear the fallen angel would give anything to kill them in that moment. Somehow that wasn’t as concerning as it had been when they were standing alone. For now, there was a strange sense of invincibility. Like nothing could touch them if they didn’t allow it.

After all, how did you handle the strength of both a powerful demon and an archangel? 

“You brought this on yourself, Azrial. I always thought you were smart enough to stay out of this.”

Lucifer’s snarled words had Crowley pushing Azrial aside for a moment. The demon’s red eyes started hatefully back at the archangel as he cooly responded.

“Azrial can’t come to the phone right now, can I take a message?”

The condescending response caused the furious archangel to growl back. “Yeah, tell my _slut_ of a sister I hope this fucks up dear old Dad’s agreement with Death.”

 _Fuck_.

The single word was the last thing to go through their connected mind as Azrial fled his body. Crowley could barely process what was going on as Azrial’s grace ripped itself from his body. He could feel small parts remain behind as his demonic aura stubbornly clung to the power source that had been protecting it. He stumbled as the weight of the wings disappeared with the archangel. His mouth went dry when he lifted his head to see what caused her to jump ship.

Lucifer’s arm was outstretched, a glowing angel blade flying through the air.

Azrial’s grace slammed into her kneeling vessel, and in what felt like slow motion the blade embedded dead center into her chest at the same time.

All Crowley could do was stare as the sound of metal shattering filled the air. For a moment nothing moved in the clearing as the snow continued to fall around them. Lucifer looked shocked, and Crowley realized numbly the bastard hadn’t expected this outcome. 

Azrial fell to the side her body sprawled against the snow as her form curled in on itself in pain. Crowley couldn’t get his body to move as blood drenched through the back of her white shirt, turning the already ruined piece of fabric into a sickening brownish-red color. The snow around her was quickly soaking up the copious amount of blood as Lucifer took several steps back.

“No. That wasn’t - she _wasn’t_ there - this wasn’t what I wanted.” 

Lucifer’s voice sounded slightly crazed, yet somehow apologetic, but Crowley couldn’t pull his eyes away from the sight in front of him. Why did it feel like he couldn’t breathe? Azrial was fine.

Angels died flashy after all.

 _But angels can die slowly_ , a voice whispered poisonously in the back of his head. It almost sounded like Alister, and Crowley swallowed thickly at the thought. He could still feel parts of Azrial’s grace thrumming through his body as Lucifer’s voice went from dementedly apologetic to murderous as he shouted.

“This is _your_ fault! I’ll _kill you for_ this Crowley!”

Crowley didn’t respond, but he heard the sound of wings that signaled an angel leaving the area. He barely processed the threat to his life as he rushed forward to the body lying in the snow. There was arguing behind him, but he couldn’t make out a word of it as he knelt down to check on the archangel.

There was so much blood.

He’d never been so worried about blood before.

_Preview of "Icarus" coming next week_


	16. Icarus

_December 18, 2009_

Bobby watched Crowley rush forward to Azrial’s bleeding body trying to process everything that just happened. 

“Should we,” Dean’s voice sounded ragged and Bobby turned to look at the blood-covered man. “Should we be doing something?” 

Bobby’s eyes shifted back to the demon who was pulling the archangel off the ground so she was leaning against his chest as his already bloody fingers searched for a pulse. Crowley looked pale, and Bobby could see the moment the demon realized the archangel was dying.

He never wanted to see that look on Crowley’s face again. It was too human, and Bobby hated the feeling of sympathy that welled up in him before he promptly crushed it. 

“What in Dad’s name is going on here?”

Bobby spun around and leveled his gun at the new person who just appeared. He froze recognizing the shorter man with dirty blonde hair. Sam spun on the new arrival and snarled as he aimed his gun, “Oh so now you show up? You cowardly-”

“Gabriel,” Castiel cut off Sam’s rant his voice shaking slightly, “Azrial, she’s alive-”

“Obviously.”

Gabriel drawled the word with a roll of his hazel eyes. Castiel looked ready to murder his brother at the realization the other archangel had _known_ Azrial was alive, but the current situation seemed to stop him.

“She’s hasn’t moved since Lucifer stabbed her, so for once-”

Castiel didn’t have to say more, Gabriel’s eyes fell upon the demon who was cradling the archangel to his chest while trying to stem Azrial’s bleeding. Bobby watched the myriad of emotions pass over Gabriel’s face, but none of them were the disgust that Lucifer and Castiel had shown at Crowley’s closeness to Azrial. The archangel strode forward rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he went, but Crowley’s eyes snapped up from what he was doing and he glared at Gabriel. A bloodied hand was raised, and Gabriel stopped a look of surprise painting his face as Crowley’s red eyes glared him down.

“Hey, calm down there. No need to try and incinerate me.”

Bobby felt his mouth go dry at Gabriel’s soft comment. Apparently, it had been a damn good thing they hadn’t approached. Gabriel may be unaffected by the demon’s power, but they would have been a smoldering pile of bones.

“Stay away from us.”

Crowley’s voice was bordering on an animalistic growl, and his grip on Azrial tightened. It looked like the demon may run with the injured archangel and Gabriel raised his hands in a show of peace. 

“White Willow.”

Bobby watched as Crowley went from outright hostile to surprised. His grip didn’t loosen, but he was looking at Gabriel with markedly less hostility. The demon finally answered tightly. “Dalmore.”

“64. I swear, I’m not out to get you. Let me help her, Crowley.”

The demon hesitated only a moment more before he gave a stiff nod at the archangel's plea. Gabriel strode forward quickly and knelt in the snow shifting Azrial so he could see the wound but not trying to pull her away from Crowley. 

“Shit.”

Gabriel’s exhaled statement was hard to hear, but the archangel lifted his head and spoke quickly.

“You’re going to have to let her go. If you don’t I’ll end up hurting you as I try to heal her. I doubt my sister would appreciate you getting burnt to a crisp.”

“No.”

Bobby couldn’t believe Crowley’s gall. Didn’t the demon realize Azrial was dying? 

“Crowley, I get it. You don’t trust-”

“No. I don’t. They,” Crowley spat the word, and Bobby couldn’t miss the cold look the demon directed at all of them. “ruined any goodwill I may have.”

“It will purify you. I won’t try and take her. She’d just leave anyway.”

“Just do it. Your _dear_ brother already took a solid swing. Maybe you’ll actually succeed.”

Gabriel was silent at Crowley’s venomous reply, and Bobby hoped the archangel would rip his sister away from the demon. This was stupid, and each second they argued Azrial came closer to death.

_You wouldn’t be any better in his position._

The words were a whisper in his mind, and Bobby frowned pushing the thought aside. It didn’t matter how he would act. Crowley was out of line, and he hoped the archangel swatted the demon aside for it.

“All right, on your head be it.”

Gabriel sounded resigned, but not the least bit angry at Crowley’s argumentative nature. Almost like he expected it. 

“He knew.”

Sam hissed the words, and Bobby nodded in agreement. There was no way the other archangel hadn’t known about Aziral and Crowley’s agreement, if not the fact they were sleeping together. Bobby was still betting that was a recent change though, but they’d likely never know.

“There’s nothing we can do about it.”

His firm reply did nothing to stem Sam’s anger as the younger man snarled. “Azrial wouldn’t be bleeding out on the damn ground after saving us if Gabriel had nutted up and helped. This is partially his fault yet I doubt he sees it that way.”

Bobby remained silent at that. Was it possible things would have gone differently? Yes. They’d likely have been shoved into one of the archangel’s pocket dimensions and would never have been here. Gabriel didn’t have the same trust Azrial had shown by allowing them freedom to act. Azrial had assumed that her warning would keep them away.

She’d been wrong, and as Gabriel cut her shirt away to inspect the large, still bleeding, star shaped wound Bobby felt a pang of guilt.

He tried to ignore it. God did he, but Sam’s words rang with a bit of truth even if they mirrored Lucifer’s teardown from earlier. Sam had stressed the ‘partially’ part of his statement, and Bobby knew whatever happened was on them as well.

Mostly he blamed Crowley.

If the demon hadn’t been caught this never would have happened. Azrial would be fine, and Lucifer would be dead.

“Crowley saved my life. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but for his sake, I hope she survives this.”

Rowen’s words were low, a whisper amongst the rapid conversations going on in the clearing. Castiel was speaking with Dean but his eyes kept darting back to Gabriel, and the angel looked paler than normal. Sam was glaring hatefully at Gabriel but still responded whenever Dean asked him something. Bobby finally responded to Rowen after several moments of thought.

“He’s a demon. Bastard should have been more careful.”

“I don’t think Crowley had a choice. He told me to run before he vanished. Something tells me Lucifer has more control over the demons than he shows.”

Bobby remained silent, refusing to admit Crowley may have kept his word. His eyes moved back to the demon, and by default, he saw what Gabriel was doing.

Gabriel’s hand was wrist-deep in Azrial’s chest, and he kept pulling out bits of metal and tossing the bloody pieces onto the snow. Crowley’s hands looked like they were slowly burning, but the demon didn’t let go. Crowley’s head was bowed causing his nose to brush against Azrial’s head, and he could see the bastard’s lips moving as Gabriel continued to pull the pieces of metal out of the wound.

“Fuck.”

The hissed expletive had Bobby snapping his head to see Castiel holding his head. The angel was breathing heavily, and Dean had a hand on his shoulder giving it a gentle shake. 

“Hey, man, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“We,” Castiel took a shaky breath looking around the area with wide eyes. “We need to get out of here.”

“What? Why?”

“Angels. Every angel in Heaven and on Earth heard Lucifer screaming. They also felt Azrial in the brief moments she was out of her body. Michael and Raphael are arguing about getting _vessels_.”

Bobby swore his heart stopped. The next moment, Rowen stiffened at his side and there was a soft whistle in the air as the man snarled viciously.

“No.”

That one word was enough to cause Bobby’s heart to restart as he snapped noticing the change in the air.

“We need to get the Hell out of here! Rowen, for fucks sake tell me that wasn’t a damn angel asking to jump you?”

“It was. Said his name was Zach-”

“Okay, fuck that. Cas, we gotta go before that feathered douche actually gets someone to say yes. I thought he was vesselless.”

Dean sounded furious as Castiel took a deep breath and strode up to help Bobby with Rowen.

“Only as long as Michael kept him on a leash. Heaven just went, what’s the phrase? Tits up.”

“Lovely.”

Dean snapped the word as they began to make their way back to the Impala, ignoring the supernaturals on the ground. If Castiel had heard, then Gabriel knew he was on the clock. Bobby shot a look back at Crowley and saw the demon hadn’t bothered looking up. Bobby shook his head looking forward.

Crowley wasn’t his problem, and neither were the two archangels behind him.

Still, there was a needling feeling of guilt he couldn’t crush even as he focused on getting his friend and boys to the car. 

**Line Break**

Gabriel exhaled as the last bits of metal fell from his hand. That had taken more power than he’d used in centuries, and he’d had to do it with Michael and Raphael’s grace hanging on the edge of his senses. He’d heard his eldest brother’s scream for answers as soon as Azrial had fallen. It was the whole damn reason he’d shown up. He’d thought Azrial had simply revealed herself but no. His little sister would never do anything so pedestrian. 

“Hey, we need to get outta here before the rest of the Heaven descends on us demanding answers.”

Crowley looked up for the first time since Gabriel had started, and he winced at the almost feral look on the demon’s face.

“Can she be moved?”

The question was growled as Crowley flexed his fingers. Gabriel could hear the burnt skin crackling like crushed autumn leaves as the demon tried to regain feeling in his hands. 

“Yes, very gingerly, but I’ve done what I can. From here on out, it’s up to her own strength.”

Gabriel hated to admit that. Hated to admit even his best wouldn’t be enough in this situation, especially to a temperamental demon. A possessive, temperamental demon, if the slight growl when he shifted to close was anything to go by. 

A crack behind them had Gabriel spinning around, blade out, and ready to defend his fallen sister. There was nothing there though and Gabriel sighed.

“Well, like I said, we should get the hell outta here.”

He started speaking as he turned back to the demon but trailed off as he realized the spot Azrial and Crowley had been was empty except for blood on the snow. 

“For Dad’s sake, they couldn’t have just waited?”

Even as he muttered the words, relief flooded Gabriel. From what he knew about his sister’s own witness protection program, Crowley would have her back. His intentions may have been selfish, but so were Loki’s. He trusted Azrial’s judgement if nothing else.

Gabriel stretched out his sense and cursed as he felt angels approaching the area. He searched out Sam next, well tuned with the human’s soul with the amount of time the giant spent in his creations. They were still too close, and Gabriel made a split-second decision. He appeared next to the Impala just as Sam slammed the trunk shut. The hunter jumped and went to grab his gun.

“Hey Samsquatch, no need for violence.”

He tried to keep his voice easy-going, and Sam narrowed his eyes. There was a twitch of his jaw that indicated he was about to get an earful, so Gabriel cut him off before he could say a word.

“Hold that thought.”

Without waiting for a response Gabriel grabbed Sam’s arm and placed a palm on the trunk of the Impala. It took everything he had, but he yanked both out of the current reality and into his own dimension. He made it look like the salvage yard that flashed through Sam’s mind because he’d drop them there once things calmed down, so best to keep the hunters at ease.

He was so lost in his thoughts that Sam connected a solid punch to his jaw.

“Fuck!”

Gabriel stumbled back holding his jaw, appearing behind Sam to avoid another hit.

“What the hell, Samsquatch? I just saved your life!”

“It wouldn’t have needed saving if you’d helped us, you coward!”

Gabriel bristled at the accusation as the driver’s door to the Impala swung open,

“Sam what the hell-oh,” Dean’s question died as he glared at Gabriel, “I should have known.”

The other doors opened, and Gabriel found his eyes drawn to the still injured man in the front seat. His soul had a slight halo around it denoting his importance to Heaven. It took several moments to realize he was looking at a damn Saint, rather than your run of the mill vessel. Gabriel moved forward to help heal the man but Sam blocked him.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Sam growled the question and Gabriel bit his tongue to avoid snapping a response. Now wasn’t the time for quip or jokes.

“Your friend there, he’s got a punctured lung. Cassie-boy did a damn good job, but something like that is easy to miss in the heat of battle.”

Sam froze, and the conflict was clear in his eyes. Castiel limped forward and grabbed Sam’s shoulder.

“Let him heal Rowen.”

“Cas, this is-”

“I know,” Castiel whispered to Sam and turned his gaze toward Gabriel, “I’m trusting you, Gabriel. Step a toe out of line and even if it kills me, I’ll kill you.”

“You’re giving me the warm and fuzzies, Castiel.” Gabriel deadpanned as he moved toward the human who was in the front seat. 

The Saint stiffened, and Gabriel couldn’t blame him. He’d had a harrowing few hours, and somehow he doubted the man was used to keeping up with the Winchesters like his brother and Singer.

“Hey, I’m gonna heal you.”

Best to be upfront with the skittish human, right? 

“Who are you?”

The question was rasped out, and Gabriel frowned. It seemed it may be more than one rib puncturing the left lung. Damn, he needed to start this yesterday.

“They call me Gabriel, Heaven’s best medic.”

He injected a bit of flair into his voice, but the human frowned and countered, “I thought,” he took a staggering breath, “that was Raphael?”

“What? No! What lies have they told you all?”

Gabriel couldn’t stop the offended tone from creeping into his voice. Raphael? Really? He’d have to go back and fix some of those damn scriptures. He shook his head and frowned at the human.

“That isn’t the point right now. Your lung is punctured. You’ve gotta let me heal ya or you’re gonna bleed out.”

He said it frankly, and watched his words click with the man who finally gave a shaky nod. Gabriel placed his hand on the man’s left side focusing grace into his lungs. One rib was crushed, and Gabriel couldn’t fault Castiel’s inability to heal it. His brother was running low on grace and something like this would take a decent amount to fuse the bone back together. The other was simply cracked, and Gabriel healed that one first. The man took a shuddering breath, clearly relishing the ease he got air to his lungs. 

“This is gonna suck. You ready?”

“Just do it.”

The exhaled response had Gabriel shooting his grace into the human’s body, coiling it around the crushed rib as he focused on fusing the pieces back together. He ignored the scream of pain and focused on his task. He hadn’t done this much healing in millenia, and he was starting to feel tired. If Azrial hadn’t been in such bad shape this may not be as taxing, but after having to rip not only metal but pieces of Lucifer’s grace from his sister’s chest Gabriel was exhausted. 

As soon as the bone was back in one piece Gabriel yanked his grace back and stumbled away from the human. He breathed deeply trying to catch his breath as he watched the others rush forward to check on their friend. A strange emptiness filled his chest as he watched them crowd the Saint, but Gabriel pushed it aside. He was just tired. After some rest he’d be good as new.

“Rowen, you okay?”

Singer’s gruff voice was met with a weak nod and smirk, “Better than ever. At least I look better than that hound.” 

Dean snorted and grinned, but Sam took the chance to turn his attention back to Gabriel.

“This doesn’t change that you’re a coward.” 

The hissed words made Gabriel scowl, and he couldn’t help his retort.

“Is that so? I didn’t have to come, Samsquatch. You’re just lucky one of the few people I give a damn about was there.”

“You mean the sister you told us was _dead_? You should have said there was another chance. You made it seem like there was no hope, and you were wrong.”

Sam’s words were venomous, and Gabriel was feeding into the taller man’s anger. Sam had a way of getting under his skin. Not always in a bad way, but right now he wanted to toss the brat back into TV land. 

“I warned you idiots that this was inevitable. Nothing is going to stop Luci and Mike from duking it out. Now, maybe you understand.”

The resignation in his voice was clear for everyone to hear. Gabriel ran a hand through his hair and gave a tired laugh.

“It’s Sunday dinner all over again, ‘cep Azrial was off her game and couldn’t help keep the food on the table.”

There was several seconds of silence before Castial spoke. “You weren’t there either, Gabriel. You used to help. What happened to you? How have you lost so much faith?”

Despite the quiet tone of the question there was heavy accusation in Castiel’s voice. Gabriel laughed, bitterness creeping into his voice.

“You’re right. I _used_ to help. We _used_ to have a Father. Michael _used_ to listen to us. Then Lucifer went too far. His flock left Haven at his command, and others went with him. There’s no hope left, Cassie-boy. Just accept it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, bastard.”

Gabriel turned too Dean, still covered in blood and dirt. The man stood tall and narrowed his eyes as he continued.

“As long as we have a _choice_ there’s still hope. Your sister had a choice, and she chose to help us. Obviously Azrial didn’t think it was hopeless.”

Gabriel remained silent. He didn’t have a rebuttal to that and this fight was pointless. It was just a rehash of their argument from the warehouse in a different location. 

“Where is Azrial? Were you able to heal her?”

Rowen’s voice broke the heavy silence and Gabriel actually felt thankful for the change of subject despite how morbid it was.

“I did what I could.”

The exorcist frowned at the emotionless reply and Singer growled. “The hell you mean by that?”

Gabriel huffed and looked away. “I mean, it’s up to her now. The damage Lucifer did? That ain’t something I’ve seen in a long time. There were only two times in history I’ve ever dealt with that level of damage to an angel.”

Gabriel hoped the admission would make them drop the subject, but Castiel quickly jumped in, fury dripping off his voice.

“And where’s Crowley?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at the hostility, wondering what the demon had done to earn his brother’s ire.

“He took Azrial to safety. Honestly, it was the smart move. I’m sure Heaven is out for all of us, and my fine ass has every intention of hiding out in a pocket dimension until everyone upstairs forgets about me again.”

“You let him take her?”

The demand was shouted, and Gabriel tilted his head in confusion at his brother’s disbelief.

“I didn’t exactly let him,” Gabriel joked with a roll of his eyes. “He just Persephone’d her and I had to save your dumbasses.”

At the lack of response beyond disbelieving stares Gabriel asked, “Why? What does it matter? Those two are thick as thieves, and any safe house they went too would be warded to the gills. She’s safer with Crowley.”

“Demons can’t be trusted.”

Dean snapped the comment and Castiel nodded in agreement. Gabriel gave a sharp laugh and grinned at Dean.

“Oh really? Then tell me, who _can_ be trusted? Angels?” He looked at Castiel who frowned as he continued. “Dear old Dad? Hell, Sam and Dean, you were on the outs there for a while due to lies!”

Gabriel snorted and added as an afterthought, “What’s the saying that ended up in that dusty old book? He without sin cast the first stone? No one in this clearing has that right. Not even me.”

“She laid with him, doesn’t that-”

Gabriel cut off Castiel’s anger and asked, “Whoa, whoa there. They actually shacked up?” at Castiel’s nod, Gabriel gave a low whistle. “Well, damn, good on her! Seems she got the chance to live a little after all.”

“How can you say that? It’s blasphemous.”

Castiel sounded personally offended and Gabriel couldn’t help but laugh at the prudish set of Castiel’s face.

“Oh brother, haven’t you learned? Dad doesn’t _care_. If he didn’t care about me fucking my way through most of the pagans, he ain’t gonna care about Azrial shacking up with Crowley.”

The subject seemed to die, and Gabriel almost felt bad for destroying the last remnants of Haven’s hold on Castiel. Almost. He was better off without some of the built in prejudices Michael carried. 

“What about Death? Did we stop the binding?”

Singer’s question made Gabriel blink in confusion. “You don’t already know?”

“If I knew why the hell would I be askin’?”

“Fair enough. Well, Death is a punctual being, and Lucifer missed his time slot. The old man is free, and likely roaming about.”

“Will that cause problems?”

Sam’s question made Gabriel snort.

“No. The old man is a stickler for the rules. Lucifer won’t be able to try and bind him again for,” Gabriel narrowed his eyes at the stars in thought, “Twenty or so years. Despite all the blood on the snow, this turned out halfway decent. Azrial’s life is in Death’s hands now.” 

When no one responded, Gabriel clapped his hands causing the dimension to melt around them. The cold air hit the group and he tilted his head.

“Well, see you on the flip side.”

Before anyone could stop him Gabriel fled the area intent on getting underground once more. He’d come out again to check on Azrial if she woke up. After that, it was the waiting game until this ended. 


	17. We're Only Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies. There are 5 chapters left of "The King's Sword"  
> As an update: Arc two "Death's Play" is 100% drafted now. I'm working on edits and it will all be set to start posting soon. I'll share more when we get to chapter 22, but there will likely be a hiatus over Christmas so I can get deep into writing Arc three "Dynasty" since "Death's Play" is about half the length of this.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!
> 
> TW/CW: None

_December 18, 2009_

Crowley was running on adrenaline and instinct. He’d had to make more jumps than he normally would to reach his safe house all while trying to hold 150 lbs of dead weight. He wasn’t Azrial, he wasn’t used to this level of physical exertion. 

Azrial.

Crowley’s hands tightened on the still archangel as he made the last jump into the safe house. He almost collapsed as they entered the wards, and as the adrenaline fled his body he remained on his feet out of pure spite.

He wouldn’t drop her.

Crowley snarled in aggravation as he stumbled toward the bed in the other room. Why did he care? Why was he feeling like _he_ had failed? If those damn Winchesters had listened this never would have happened! It wasn’t _his_ fault things had gone to shit.

_You insisted on going._

Crowley ignored the knowing whisper in his mind as he placed Azrial on the bed. She was still covered in blood. Her clothes were a mess and her shirt was barely holding together. He didn’t even realize what he was doing until he’d dropped the wrecked shirt on the ground. It felt like his body was on autopilot but his mind wouldn’t slow down enough for it to catch up.

“Why did you leave? _We_ were safe.”

There was no response. Of _course,_ there was no damn response. Crowley’s brow creased as he realized he was talking to himself. Wasn’t that the first sign of insanity? Crowley huffed and gave up fighting with the tattered jeans and simply cut them off. This was a mess. A disaster. The only saving grace, Crowley snorted at the thought, had been Azrial jumping into his meat suit. Lucifer would have killed him before taking her vessel. Crowley had no doubts about that, but the feeling of her grace curtained protectively around him was hard to shake. She’d basically put herself between him and Lucifer without hesitation. Her grace was akin to a warm blanket despite how cold her power was, and Crowley realized he _missed_ the security of her power. The bits of grace that remained were fading fast as his own aura tried to cling to it with no avail. It was such a human concept, the idea of a security blanket, and Crowley scoffed. He hadn’t acted _human_ since he broke in Hell centuries ago.

Humanity.

His eyes widened as he stepped away from the motionless archangel in realization. That was it. That was _why_ he was feeling so, so-

“Human. You’re making me more _human_.”

Disgust and anger destroyed his concern in a single moment. Had that been Azrial’s intention all along? To make him more malleable when it came time to take Hell?

Crowley went to walk away but his eyes caught sight of the scar that now dominated Azrial’s chest. He stopped and swore he felt physically pulled in two directions.

He’d never look after _anyone_ , but on the other hand, no one had ever _saved_ him. Did that warrant a touch more understanding? Should he return the favor now and clear his debt? 

Azrial had only been this vulnerable one other time in their partnership, and even then she’d done most of the leg work to keep herself alive. Now though, Gabriel’s words echoed ominously in the back of his head. If Azrial died, if her body gave out, Crowley may as well kill himself now. He was officially on Lucifer’s shit list, and likely at the top right after his darling brother. Crowley slowly walked back toward the bed as a plan formed.

He’d take care of her for now. Do what he could to ensure she survived. After that though, Azrial was on her own. They’d go back to how things were. No more blurring the damn lines. No more pseudo-friendship. 

It was time to get back to basics, and he wasn’t going to let an _archangel_ reawaken his damn humanity. 

**Line Break**

Dean stumbled into the bathroom at Bobby’s ignoring the arguing in the living room. 

Rowen said he was leaving. Dean couldn’t blame the man.

Bobby hadn’t taken that announcement well and the men were getting pretty into it. Sam hadn’t moved from his chair, and Dean was pretty sure his brother had passed out from the stress of it all. Castiel wasn’t much better, but the angel had commandeered the bathroom upstairs to rid himself of the blood and grime. Dean sighed as he turned on the sink and began to scrub the blood and dirt off his hands. It was taking more effort than it should. He huffed and looked in the mirror with a frown.

There was blood caked to his neck and side of his face. It was almost flaking off now, but it left behind a stain of red that he had to scrub hard at. He’d probably be better off waiting for the shower at this point, but he wanted to feel at least a little human.

Human.

Lucifer’s words had sunk in toward the end. The idea that humanity didn’t deserve an angel’s aid because they weren’t willing to listen or obey rubbed Dean wrong. If that were the case what made Azrial’s help any different than saying yes to Michael? Instant obedience meant the loss of free will.

Yet he’d always obeyed his father.

Dean frowned and shook his head trying to clear his mind. He focused on peeling the dried blood off his face hoping that it would distract him. A stubborn flake of blood had him looking intently in the mirror as he tried to rub it off. It finally came off, falling into the sink and a flash of guilt shot through him as he stared at it.

“What the hell was I thinking?”

Dean muttered the question as he lifted his head to look in the mirror again. Lucifer had almost killed him. He swore he had that cliche ‘life flashing before his eyes’ moment, and the only thing that had come to mind was how badly he’d fucked Sam. He knew his brother, knew him better than anyone in the world, and his brother would have said yes to bring him back. Lucifer would have got what he wanted, everyone would be killed, and Dean _may_ have been brought back just so the bastard could gloat. He wouldn’t put it past Lucifer.

Dean splashed some water on his face and took a deep breath. It wasn’t Sam, or Bobby, or Rowen, or Castiel’s fault what happened though. Things had gone tits up when _Crowley_ had fucked up. It was _Crowley_ who’d made Azrial throw caution to the wind, and Dean somehow doubted Sam ranked above Crowley in the archangel’s mind. It had been sheer dumb luck that Azrial was able to spin it to save them both, and he was grateful for that, but he couldn’t get rid of the nasty taste that realization left in his mouth. It was adding insult to injury when Gabriel acted like it was no big deal how close the two beings were.

“Disgusting is what it is.”

Dean huffed, but the guilt still gnawed at him. Why though? He looked at his face glad to see most of the blood was gone, and he could hear the shower had stopped. With a tired sigh, he left the bathroom ignoring the guilt that still clung to him. He’d make it up to Sammy, and then everything would be back to normal. For now, he wanted a damn shower.

**Line Break**

Castiel stood in the shower trying to get the dirt off his body. He was mostly uninjured, thanks to Lucifer’s inability to handle both he and Azrial at the same time. He frowned at the thought of his sister, and by default Crowley. Gabriel’s accusation that none of them had room to judge rubbed Castiel the wrong way. It was putting humans on the same level as angels and holding angels to their Father’s standard for humans. Angels weren’t human, they were supposed to be above emotions. Michael stressed that things like love, anger, and sorrow were unnecessary to angels, and therefore shouldn’t be considered.

Humanity wasn’t divine and therefore angels shouldn’t feel human emotions. 

Yet most days Castiel felt some sort of emotion. Aggravation, anger, amusement, happiness-

Love.

Love was one he couldn’t always wrap his head around. He loved, in some facet, the Winchesters and Robert Singer. It was different for each of them though, and it confused Castiel to no end. Love was love was love, right? Father never did spell that out clearly. That left Castiel in a conundrum. Did he push aside all the questions he had and remain a good soldier, or did he explore them? He’d been in a strange rut since he’d outwardly sided with the Winchesters. He felt pulled between Heaven and Earth, and that only worsened when Azrial had shown up again.

Castiel let out a small growl, and forcefully turned off the water as he stepped out of the shower.

Somehow his sister sat at the crux of his doubts. Seeing Azrial with Crowley irritated Castiel to no end. Irritation, another emotion he wasn’t overly used to. Castiel sighed, pushing the door to the bathroom open after pulling on a sleeping shirt and pants Bobby had pointed him at earlier, and coming face to face with a startled Dean,

“Uh, sorry man. Thought you’d be done.”

Castiel remained silent and eyed his friend. Dean looked exhausted: there were bags under his eyes, and blood still clung to his face and neck despite his obvious attempts to get rid of it. A feeling of guilt curled around Castiel’s chest at the blood, and he finally responded.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology hung heavily in the air, and Dean stared dumbfounded at him. Castiel went to walk past the hunter but was stopped by Dean’s confused voice.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“You almost died. If I hadn’t told you where Azrial was headed that wouldn’t have happened.”

The guilt ebbed at his admission, which was curious. Castiel wasn’t used to feeling guilt, let alone how it would fade with an admission of wrongdoing. Dean looked at him strangely, and then snorted.

“Yeah, well, to err is human right? I didn’t have to come along.”

There was a strange tone in Dean’s voice that Castiel couldn’t place. It sounded out of place for his normally laid back friend. 

“What does that mean?”

Dean stared at him for several seconds and then explained, “It’s a saying. To err is human, to forgive is divine.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Castiel couldn’t keep the mild frustration out of his voice. It constantly felt like he was getting nowhere in regards to human interaction. There were too many meanings in their words, and it was hard enough to figure out the surface of everything said let alone subtext.

“It’s not really important. Just know you don’t have to apologize when I chose to follow you.”

“But if I hadn’t told you-”

Dean held up a hand and started to walk past him into the bathroom. The hunter paused at the door and whispered, “Don’t play the ‘what if’ game, Cas. It spirals out of control until every possible scenario seems plausible. At least no one died.”

The ‘yet’ hung ominously in the air. Castiel hoped that it stayed that way, but Azrial dying was still a possibility. It fell firmly under the ‘what if’ category though, and Castiel decided to listen to his friend.

“Go get some rest, Cas. I’ll see you downstairs in a bit.”

Dean shut the door after his soft comment, and Castiel stood in the hallway long enough to hear the water being turned back on. It snapped him out of his thoughts and Castiel decided to follow Dean’s advice and made his way downstairs to the chair he’d claimed a few days back.


	18. Heaven Knows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 chapters to go!  
> So, I have a question for you all: Would you like two chapters a week for the next two weeks, or keep the weekly schedule? Let me know. Either way, expect a hiatus over Christmas. Arc 2 is in final edits and I'm working on Arc 3.
> 
> CW/TW: Minor gaslighting/guilt-tripping in the second section

_December 23, 2009_

Bobby looked up from the book he truly wasn’t reading at the sound of tires coming up his driveway. That was one of the perks of a gravel road he enjoyed, and he sighed, taking a deep swig of his whiskey before standing up. Dean was in the kitchen trying to put a meal together, and Sam was off in town stocking up on supplies with Castiel. It felt longer than the measly five days that had passed since their confrontation with Lucifer. Gabriel had never come back after lecturing them, and neither had Crowley.

Bobby was quietly running under the assumption that Azrial had died.

He wouldn’t say a word to Castiel about his thoughts, but it seemed likely at this point. Sam and Dean decided to stay through until at least Christmas to see if they got any news, and Bobby knew they were doing it for Castiel’s sake. It was nice having the company, but it was tinged with worry. Bobby sighed and shoved the door open, smiling slightly at the sight of Ellen. The woman was practically stomping up to his porch with Jo trailing behind her with an amused smirk. It was too bad Rowen had left on the 19th, he’d have enjoyed Ellen ripping into all of them. Bobby sighed, his smile falling at the thought of the exorcist. It seemed anytime one of them left there was an argument. When would they learn?

“Glad you could make it.”

It was inflammatory, and he damn well knew it, but the flash of fury in the woman’s dark eyes made him chuckle. He needed a bit of amusement after everything that happened. In less than a week his world had been turned upside down, and now they were stuck in the waiting loop from hell. It seemed as good a time as any to celebrate Christmas with everyone. 

“I can’t believe you let those boys bench us, Singer.”

The slight growl of annoyance lacked any real heat. Ellen understood Bobby was sure, that the Winchesters couldn’t stand the thought of losing anyone else. Hell, he was sure the idjits would have tried to leave him at home if they weren’t sure he’d shoot them for it.

“The boys all came out unscathed, minus a few bumps and bruises. Given what happened, it’s best the two of you weren’t there.”

Ellen sighed and Bobby turned his gaze toward Jo. “How have you been?”

The young women shrugged and grinned slightly, “Been hunting. Can’t let the world ending slow us down, right?”

Ellen rolled her eyes and Bobby snorted in agreement. “Guess so. Dean’s inside makin’ lunch.”

Jo’s grin became a touch predatory and she went inside to harass Dean, just as Bobby had hoped. Ellen didn’t move and Bobby sighed as soon as he heard Jo teasing Dean, who of course started in with his false bravado to amuse her. The volume meant there was no way to be overheard with the screen door shut.

“Ask.”

His blunt statement had the woman leaning against the porch railing eyeing him skeptically.

“They’re really all okay? Even that angel that’s been running with them?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. Dean had a brush with Lucifer but-”

Bobby trailed off and shut his eyes in thought. How did he even begin to explain everything that had happened?

“But?”

The terse question made him hum and he gave Ellen a pacifying look. “But Azrial stopped Lucifer by taking the blow. So Dean is fine.”

“Where is this elusive archangel anyway? Sam just said to come out here for the holidays. When I tried to ask what happened he said he’d tell us in person.” 

Ellen’s curiosity caused Bobby to wince, and the woman narrowed her eyes on him. He decided to be honest with her; after all, Ellen had no connection with Azrial.

“Honestly, I think she’s dead.” 

The blunt statement caused Ellen to stare at him for several moments before she sighed. There were several seconds of silence before she asked softly.

“And you haven’t shared that thought with anyone, have you?”

Bobby huffed and looked back toward the driveway. At least he didn’t have to worry about Castiel simply appearing next to him.

“No.”

“Are you trying to spare Castiel, or is it something else?”

The probing question surprised him and he turned back to Ellen with a raised eyebrow.

“What else would it be?”

“Well, Dean did go on about her looks.”

The teasing tone made Bobby laugh. Of course, Dean would, though he was sure that was the only complimentary thing he said. 

“Did he?”

“He did follow it up with calling her a frigid bitch.” 

“That I believe.”

A comfortable silence fell over them, and Ellen moved to stand next to him. Bobby didn’t bother to look back at her and stared out at the driveway in thought. When Ellen didn’t respond he added. “I’m old, not dead, Ellen.”

Ellen bristled slightly at his admission, and Bobby sighed trying to soothe the woman’s temper. He hadn’t expected the joking comment to be taken badly.

“Azrial saved Dean’s life, something I didn’t see happening.”

His voice sounded contemplative even to his own ears, and Bobby shut his eyes trying to ignore the piercing look Ellen was shooting him.

“And?”

“And nothin’. As I said, I’m pretty sure she died for her efforts. Even if that wasn’t the case, what do you think could have been going on?”

Ellen sighed but didn’t respond. Bobby was happy with their arrangement, but he knew at times the woman wanted far more than he could give. With Jo grown and the Winchesters long past the point of needing immediate supervision, Ellen had put a touch more pressure on him for something more serious than she used to. If times were different, if the world weren’t ending, he may have even entertained the idea. Now wasn’t the time though so he did his best to reassure her.

“Azrial and Crowley were shacking up. Lucifer decided to spill the beans, but honestly, I’d already guessed.”

Ellen made a small sound in the back of her throat that sounded like she’d swallowed wrong. “An archangel and a demon?”

“Yeah. She even hopped into his meat suit during the fight. That was,” Bobby paused, opening his eyes at the sound of tires on the driveway to see the Impala coming up the road. “It was something else. I always thought Rowen was BS’ing me about _feeling_ the power of supernaturals but not anymore.”

“How is that even possible? Not the fucking mind you, but them sharing a vessel. Wouldn’t she purify him?”

Bobby had been mulling over that very question before Ellen arrived. Best he could figure, either Azrial wasn’t what she said or Crowley was more then he appeared. Given everything he’d seen, it was probably the latter. This had him combing through demonic lore trying to find the missing part of the puzzle that allowed the two beings to get up close and personal. It also begged the question if they could do it again, and would doing it in advance be tactically sound. 

Assuming, of course, he was wrong and Azrial had survived.

“Sam, Castiel, it’s good to see you again.”

The subject dropped as it had never come up as Ellen greeted the boys. Bobby saw the mildly pleased look at Castiel’s new attire as she leaned in to hug Sam. Castiel stiffened slightly as she did the same to him but gave her a gentle hug back after a moment. Ellen pulled away and smirked at them both.

“Heard you boys have quite the story to tell. Why don’t we get outta the cold and get some beers?”

Sam grinned and held the door for Ellen and the two headed inside. Castiel looked back out at the setting sun, and Bobby could practically read his thoughts.

“She’s probably still recovering.”

It was a lie, and by the way, Castiel looked at him, Bobby was sure the angel knew. Yet there was no anger, just a strange look of appreciation. 

“You’re probably right.”

That statement felt loaded, and Bobby had a feeling it wasn’t directed at what he actually said. Instead of dwelling on it, he patted Castiel’s arm.

“Let’s get inside. It’s too damn cold out here.”

Castiel nodded and they walked into the house, and Bobby smiled slightly at the laughter and conversation that had taken hold of his normally quiet house. They were all alive, and for the most part well. They may not know what’s coming, but when did they ever? He was grateful for this moment.

_For what it’s worth_ , he prayed silently, doubting it would ever reach its recipient. _Thanks for saving them_.

**Line Break**

Azrial woke with a start, adrenaline shooting through her body as if she’d been electrocuted. She bolted upright, and immediately regretted the movement as she practically screamed in pain. The bed seemed to move at her action, and her hands groped around thinking Crowley may have stayed with her. She almost jumped at the feeling of fur under her fingers. A soft growl met her ears as a nose pressed tightly into her hand.

“Oh.”

She rasped softly sitting up fully to look at the hellhound whose large body was taking up a majority of the bed. Red eyes stared back at her, almost critically Azrail mused, and she reached out to scratch him behind the ears.

“It’s been a long time, Growley. How’s my favorite hellhound?”

The hound huffed but kept his head on the bed clearly enjoying the attention while Azrial wracked her brain trying to remember what happened. She was also trying to figure out what had woken her up. It was like an itch at the back of her head, and Azrial frowned trying to mull over the feeling. It felt familiar, yet somehow foreign to her all the same. As if instinctively she should know what it was but she wasn’t personally aware of the phenomenon that had jolted her into awareness. 

A crash in the other room made her stiffen, and she slowly pulled herself off the bed. Growley moved away but didn’t seem bothered by the noise. Maybe it was just Crowley? If that were the case why hadn’t he come in after hearing that she was awake? These walls were paper thin, and she was sure he would have heard her talking. 

“Fuck,” she cursed softly as she struggled to stand. It felt like she'd been hit by a damn truck. “What the hell happened?”

Azrial shook her head and grabbed at a loose t-shirt that had been thrown over the chair in the corner of the room. Slipping into it was agony, and her back screamed in protest as she lifted her hands over her head. As she struggled with it her fingers brushed her chest as she pulled the fabric down and she froze at the feeling of _scar_ tissue under her fingers. The shirt she’d worked so hard to get on was practically ripped off as she stumbled into the bathroom. Her hands fell to the sink as she braced herself against the cool porcelain and stared horrified at her reflection. 

“What-?”

The question died in her throat as she stared mutely in the mirror. Her once flawless skin was marred by a huge, star-shaped, scar that seemed to dominate her chest between her breasts. It was slightly off-center, and her brain mutely added that it looked to be a heart shot, but she still couldn’t manage a coherent thought about what she was seeing. Her fingers reached out to touch the mirror, and she bit her lip at the realization that it truly _was_ her.

She needed answers.

Azrial ignored her body’s protests and slipped the shirt back on again. She looked around the room frantically and her eyes came back to the chair she’d found the shirt on to see a pair of sweatpants.

She could never say Crowley didn’t look out for her.

The thought was comforting as she pulled the pants on. Her legs felt heavy, and if she were honest with herself, Azrial felt weak. It scared her, and she hoped that nothing needed her immediate attention in the outside world. She wasn’t sure she could face a kitten at this point, let alone a full fight. Azrial stumbled out of the bedroom, and the smell of expensive whiskey hit her like a wall. Her nose twitched, and she saw Crowley nursing a glass at the small table.

“You’re finally up.”

The statement was said flatly and lacked any indication of the demon’s feelings. It was only years of knowing Crowley that cued her into the quiet fury that was burning under his skin. There was the slightest twitch of his fingers like he wanted nothing more than to burn something to a crisp, and the fact was he didn’t get _drunk_ when he was in a good mood.

“Was I asleep for long?” 

Azrial tried to make a joke out of it, but the whiskey glass slammed into the table with a harsh click as Crowley turned on her. His eyes were a swarm of, well she wasn’t sure. Anger? Annoyance? Yet neither seemed to fit with the way his hand shook. She’d never seen that from him before.

“It’s been five days.”

The statement was snarled, and Azrial stared at him not knowing what to say. She walked closer to the table but didn’t take the seat across from Crowley. Something in the back of her mind was saying she should recognize this behavior, but her brain was only sluggishly chugging along at this point. 

“What happened? I don’t remember anything past-”

The words died in her throat, as Azrial remembered the feeling of being far too close to Crowley’s demonic aura. She could still recall the way it clung to her grace. It had felt like she was being devoured, but it also felt comforting. It was warm in a way she never was, and she couldn’t help but compare it to sitting in the fading rays of a summer sunset. Those few moments where the warmth was coveted and felt all the sweeter because it was so brief.

“Past what?”

The question was asked gruffly, and Azrial shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had to tread carefully with him, and she simply wasn’t in the right state of mind to do so. 

“Past sharing your vessel.”

The quiet admission hung in the air between them, and Crowley picked the glass back up, finishing his drink with a strange look. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, and Azrial frowned wondering how much he’d actually drank at this point. 

“You should have let me die.”

The words were hissed, and they hit Azrial like a whip. Crowley finally met her eyes and now there was no question, he was pissed.

“Pardon?”

She couldn’t help the snark that crept its way into the question. Crowley stood up, setting the glass back down with an audible click. He glared at her for several seconds before responding.

“You should have let me die, Azrial. At least then,” he huffed and turned away from her. “Well, I would have died with my damn dignity.”

Azrial bit her lip to stop the knee-jerk response to that asinine statement, and instead opted to gently ask. “Then look me in the eye and say that.”

The soft prompt caused the demon to growl, and stalk toward her. Azrial didn’t move an inch as she looked up at Crowley. He was in her space, not something she was averse too, but there was a heavy tension. It was like he was a moment from snapping, and she wasn’t sure what that would entail. When was the last time he’d been drunk? Azrial couldn’t remember, but also couldn’t blame him given everything that happened. Still, she needed to know how she was injured. Her money was on Lucifer, but that still left the question of how and why his attack had scarred her vessel.

“Say what, Azrial? That I wish you’d let Lucifer kill me?”

Azrial stiffened at the harsh question, but couldn’t break away from his cold gaze. There was something else there, but for the life of her, all she could see was the anger and judgment right now. 

“You don’t mean that.”

Despite how sure she was of that, Azrial could distinctly hear the waver in her voice. Crowley smirked and she almost jumped as he grabbed her chin. She stiffened as he leaned close as if he was about to kiss her, but stopped a few inches from her lips.

“I do. Just like I mean this,” he paused and Azrial wished she could see his face better, and that her heart would stop trying to beat out of her chest. “I’m bored of you, Azrial.”

She felt breathless. Not that lovely breathless from a week ago, but the suffocating type she associated with so many horrible memories. She knew there was more going on, but all her exhausted mind could comprehend was the cruelty of what Crowley was saying given the circumstances.

“Then,” her voice sounded shattered even to her ears and as Crowley pulled away from her she saw a triumphant gleam in his dark eyes. “then I’ll go.”

Crowley smirked, but somehow it didn’t reach his eyes. He pulled away from her and walked back over to his empty glass, pouring another from the tumbler on the table.

“You do that, darling.”

The emotionless reply lacked any of the snark or amusement she’d expect to hear if he’d meant it. At the same time, Azrial needed to get away from him. For the first time in more than a decade, she needed to put distance between her and Crowley before she did or said something she’d regret. Without a word she turned away from the table, praying she could keep it together long enough to get out of this stupid safe house. She didn’t even bother to grab anything, all she wanted was to be away from Crowley.

With that thought, she was gone from the safe house and stumbled several feet before collapsing in an alleyway Father only knew where. She fell to her knees retching weakly into the dirty snow and trying to breathe through the pain. Fuck that hurt, that hurt more than anything she’d ever experienced.

Azrial lifted her head at the sound of snow crunching and stared in shock at the person looking down at her. “Gabe?”

She muttered the name in confusion, her head starting to spin again. Maybe this hadn’t been the smartest thing she’d ever done. Strong hands were helping her up, and the feeling of grace licking at her aching body eased some of her pain. It seemed her instincts were still going strong even if nothing else was.

“Hey, Sis. Need a place to stay?”

There was no judgment in his voice even though Azrial was sure she looked like a mess. There were no pointless questions of why she was out here or what happened. 

She looked up at her brother searchingly. “You know what happened, don’t you?”

His hazel eyes darkened and he gave a slight nod. “I do, why don’t we go inside and chat?”

A door appeared on the stone wall of the alley, and Azrial could feel Gabriel’s grace dripping all over the area. She knew he was doing it on purpose, silently proving who he was while making sure there was no one else around. She simply nodded and leaned against her brother as he helped her walk.

“Yeah, sounds good. Got anything to drink?”

The question was met by a snort, and Gabriel hummed as they stepped through the door into a cozy loft that seemed to smell of nothing but sugar and fresh herbs. It was a jarring combination, but Azrial didn’t care. 

It was safe, and that’s all she needed. That and to get wasted.

Maybe Crowley had the right idea on that.

She ignored the painful wave of emotion that crashed over her at the thought of the demon and smiled tightly as Gabriel handed her a glass, not caring in the slightest what was in it. 

She tilted it and in a flat voice whispered, “Cheers.”


	19. Christmas Miracles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a Christmas episode! 
> 
> We are fast approaching the end. Once again, if you have any opinions about if you'd want a bulk upload, let me know.

_December 24th, 2009_

Rowen was about to start his Christmas Eve sermon when the door opened slightly to admit a straggler. His regulars were too busy chatting to take note of the woman who ducked into the empty back pew. She had on a pair of black sunglasses despite it being eight in the evening, and she was wearing a baggy grey sweater dress and tights. She stood out like a sore thumb against his prim and proper congregation, and it made him smile. It was always heartwarming when others joined them, especially during the holidays.

Then she lifted her face and he swore his heart stopped for a moment.

It didn’t matter that black sunglasses were blocking bright blue eyes, the shape of her face and the power that suddenly filled the room made it apparent who’d entered his church.

“Father Anderson, are you ready to begin?”

Rowen nodded his head absentmindedly and tried to ignore the archangel sitting at the back of the room.

“Of course.”

He walked up to the pulpit and decided he’d continue as if she wasn’t there.

“Good Evening, it’s my pleasure to see all of you on this holy day. Shall we begin with a prayer?”

Rowen swore his sermon lasted longer than he’d planned. He was mildly surprised to see his visitor standing for hymns, even if she never sang or responded. When the candles were lit at the end of the sermon, she seemed to seek out one of the children who happily took her hand. He saw the barest smile as she squatted down to make it easier, ignoring the slightly off-put look from one of the older women when her dress hiked up slightly. She still hadn’t removed her glasses, and as he stood on her other side he could immediately tell why.

The smell of alcohol clung to her like some of his parishioners’ perfumes.

Their fingers brushed as they closed the circle, and as the final prayer echoed around the room he could feel her hand shaking. He couldn’t immediately speak with her as the circle broke and people began approaching to ask questions or wish him a Merry Christmas.

He watched as the child, Ava if he recalled, tugged the archangel’s hand and leaned to whisper something in her ear. Rowen made out the soft laugh and nod as Ava scrambled back to her parents with a happy smile. After that, he lost sight of his angelic visitor for a few moments as people crowded around him. Rowen barely had the chance to tell his wife to start counting the tithings so they could get home to the kids on time.

By the time he was able to get away, the church was empty except for the familiar form sitting in the front pew. He walked up to her and sat down without hesitation.

“I’m glad to see you’re well.”

His soft statement was met by a snort, and Azrial pulled off her glasses. Her eyes were bloodshot, but it looked more like she’d been crying then from being inebriated.

“We must have very different definitions of well, Father Anderson.”

Azrial’s voice was soft, and there wasn’t a lick of the snark he’d come to associate with the archangel. It was the same tone of voice that she’d used at Bobby’s when they’d spoken about an angel’s capacity to love. 

“Perhaps.”

His admission caused a comfortable silence to fall between them, and he waited to see if Azrial said anything. She had to be here for a reason. Somehow he doubted the archangel would randomly show up at his church, especially since it seemed she’d been drinking.

“I thought,” Azrial paused, seemingly transfixed by the stained glass that dominated the wall behind the pulpit. “I thought being here may help me.”

“Help you with what?”

“Feel closer to Heaven.”

Rowen expected many things from the archangel, but this was far from one of them. He must have been silent for too long because Azrial laughed bitterly, her head tilting back to stare at the ceiling.

“In a way, it did. Your soul’s purity makes this place holier than it normally would be. If I shut my eyes I can almost pretend...”

Azrial trailed off and Rowen wished he could find something to say. His father prepared him for many things; from confessionals to exorcisms, but talking to an emotional archangel wasn’t something he ever fathomed needing to know.

“Can’t you go home?”

Rowen poised the same question he would to someone with an estranged family. From what he understood, Azrial didn’t actually have an issue with Michael beyond him wanting to fight Lucifer. That didn’t mean the eldest angel would turn his sister away though, did it?

“Home? I haven’t had a home in a long time.”

Azrial’s admission seemed to age her. Her eyes seemed darker as she stared up at the rafters clearly lost in thought. 

“Why’s that?”

Silence greeted his question, and Rowen didn’t know if he wanted her to answer. He was treating her like any human that may wander in looking for answers, and he was waiting for it to bite him on the ass. 

“The short story is I was ordered not to return to Heaven.”

Rowen must have looked shocked because when Azrial turned toward him she laughed. “An archangel barred from Heaven. It sounds painfully familiar doesn’t it?”

Rowen felt a bubble of anger in him at the silent comparison. Perhaps it was how dead her eyes were, or maybe all Azrial had done to aid them, but he wasn’t going to let that go.

“You’re not _Lucifer_ , Azrial. I don’t even know the story and I’d stake my life on that.”

Azrial remained silent. He was about to make another point but the archangel whispered,

“You don’t know that. I could be even worse than my dear brother.”

Rowen bit his tongue to stem the retort that he initially wanted to respond with. Azrial didn’t seem in the right state of mind for a blunt disagreement. 

“If that’s the case, why did you save Dean?”

The question caused the archangel to look at him strangely, and she remained quite clearly wanting him to elaborate.

“If you were anything like your brother, Dean Winchester would be dead. If you were _anything_ like Lucifer, he’d have his vessel and we’d all be under his boot right now rather than celebrating.”

When Azrial didn’t respond Rowen added quietly, “If you were anything like Lucifer, Crowley would be _dead_ , Azrial. You did your part to try and stop him. What more can you expect of yourself?”

The pain in her eyes seemed to multiply at the mention of Crowley, and Rowen wished he hadn’t brought the demon up. He should have guessed the bastard was part of the reason the archangel seemed off her game. Demons weren’t known to be grateful, after all. Crowley may have saved his life, but that debt would only extend so far and that didn’t include excusing stupidity.

“You act like I’m a good,” Azrial paused and Rowen swore she was about to say person, “You act like I’m a proper archangel. I’m _not_. In some ways, I’ve sinned far worse than Lucifer.” 

“If that’s the case, how is it you’ve not Fallen?”

Azrial stiffened for a moment, but she shook her head looking back at the stained glass window. It showed Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel. Rowen frowned realizing that it must be a nasty reminder to her. That she’d been forgotten and left behind by not just her family, but also the world.

“My Father’s will is all that kept me from joining Lucifer. My sin is one that Heaven would see me killed for, archangel or not.”

“If Heaven’s will is the same as God’s, why do you work so hard to prevent your brothers’ fight?”

Azrial froze, and she looked completely taken aback by his question. A feeling of triumph filled him as Azrial fell into contemplative silence. A soft cough drew his attention to his right, but Azrial didn’t seem to notice that someone had joined them.

“The tithings are taken care of. Are you ready to go home?”

Susan’s voice was gentle as she shifted her dark blonde over her shoulder. She must have taken it down while she’d been closing down the church. Azrial seemed to snap out of her thoughts and looked between the two of them.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you.”

The archangel stood up, and with one last glance at the stained window she turned to walk out.

“Do you have anywhere to go tonight, Azrial?”

Rowen’s question had the effect he’d hoped, and Susan’s mouth fell into a gentle oh as her dark green eyes settled on the archangel who shrugged.

“Back to Gabriel, I guess. Assuming he’s not off with one of his liaisons.”

She didn’t sound thrilled at the prospect and Susan quickly cut in. “Why don’t you come back to the orphanage with us? We’ll be having a Christmas Eve dinner, and the more the merrier.”

Azrial looked genuinely surprised by the offer, and Rowen wished he could take a picture. Her dark blue eyes moved between them, clearly trying to weigh up the offer.

“I don’t think that would be,” she paused and shot him a look, “wise.”

“Nonsense! Rowen told me how much you helped on that damn hunt. It’s the least we can do to repay you.”

Azrial blinked and asked softly, “You know what I am, and still want me to join you?”

Susan scoffed and walked forward linking her arm through the surprised archangel’s.

“You could be just about _anything,_ and I’d be inviting you to dinner for keeping my daft husband alive. The fact that you’re an archangel means very little to me.”

Azrial seemed to falter and added half-heartedly, “I’ve been drinking, do you really think I should be around children?”

“You sound far more sober than some of the people I saw at service tonight. Archangel or not, you’re not getting out of this I’m afraid.”

Susan began walking toward the exit, and Azrial looked frantically back at him, but Rowen just smirked and gave a careless shrug. 

“Best just give in, Azrial. Sue can be rather strong-willed when she wants to be.”

Susan scoffed, and Azrial looked back at the woman, clearly at a loss.

“This isn’t being strong-willed, Ro. I’m simply returning her kindness.”

His wife pulled the confused archangel out the door and toward the car, chatting all the while. Rowen paused at the door to turn off the lights and his gaze fell on the stained glass window illuminated by moonlight. He shook his head, flipping off the switch and heading out to join the women, just in time to hear Azrial tentatively answering one of Susan’s questions.

**Line Break**

Azrial was sure she’d lost her mind.

It’s not that she had something against Rowen, on the contrary, the exorcist amused her when he wasn’t threatening Crowley’s life. That didn’t explain why she’d allowed herself to be dragged back to his orphanage for a holiday meal.

Crowley would wring her neck. 

That thought left a sour taste in her mouth, and she sipped the wine that Susan had been kind enough to hand her. Her hair was a mess of small braids and fake flowers after several young girls had glomped onto her. Apparently, her hair was fun to play with, who knew? 

“Ah, that’s the last of the kids in bed.”

Rowen stumbled back into the kitchen with an easy smile, and Azrial snorted softly. He took a seat across from her, and Azrial set her glass down.

“Thank you, for allowing me to spend the evening here.”

“Don’t _ever_ thank me, Azrial. After tonight,” Rowen ran a hand through his peppered auburn hair and smiled softly at her. “I should be thanking _you_ , after what you did.” 

Azrial turned away and did her best to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks. “I told you never to bring it up once it was done.”

The reprimand was awkward, but she wasn’t Michael or Gabriel. She didn’t like human praise because she was far from accustomed to it. Rowen let the subject drop and relaxed into his chair.

“Where did your wife run off to?”

“Sue retired for the night. She insists on staying near Conner at least until morning.”

Azrial hummed, “That’s understandable.”

A quiet lull fell between them, and Azrial shut her eyes enjoying the silence for a few more moments. She appreciated Gabriel offering her a place to stay, but her brother was _loud_. Somehow louder than a whole damn orphanage. She missed the quiet of sitting across from someone with a glass of wine and-

“Damnit.”

Azrial huffed the word under her breath, aggravated that her thoughts kept straying back to Crowley. Three years and she’d only thought about the demon during quiet moments where there was a lull in the constant stream of doing, but now he’d turned into an itch that wouldn’t go away. 

_Note to self, never sleep with snarky demons. Side effects include the annoying urge to forgive outright dickishness_.

“Azrial?”

Rowen’s tone snapped Azrial out of her morbid thoughts, and she shook her head.

“I’m sorry, seems I zoned out a bit.”

“It’s no trouble. If you don’t mind me asking, what was all that talk about me being a Saint?”

Azrial blinked slowly and realized that was a pretty fair question all things considered. 

“Well, when you die you’ll become a Saint.”

The blunt statement made Rowen stare blankly back at her, and Azrial raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re not used to kids, are you? I thought the ‘why’ was implied in my question.”

Azrial’s lips twitched at the mild sarcasm and she ran a finger along the stem of her wine glass. 

“Saints have been known to the archangels since the beginning of time. Each of us was accountable for a set number of them. Simply put, it just means you’ll be rather special when you die.” 

Azrial paused, enjoying the mystified look that overcame the man. She chuckled and added as an afterthought, “There are many Saints not even known to the Vatican because their criteria about what makes a Saint isn’t really complete. They do catch a decent few, though.”

Rowen took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair as he leaned heavily against the table.

“That’s insane.”

“Don’t ask about prophets then. They’re an even messier basket of eggs.”

Rowen stared at her for several moments, and Azrial had a sneaking suspicion he was trying to tell if she was serious. He sighed and then looked her straight in the eye.

“Who’s,” he paused and snorted, “accountable for me?”

Azrial didn’t look away, but she couldn’t help but bite her tongue. She’d told him too much, and now he could likely guess if she refused to answer.

“You can’t guess?”

She joked softly, and Rowen looked thoughtful.

“I’m inclined to say, Gabriel. He was rather concerned about my health. Though Castiel also said Michael was interested in me.”

Azrial chuckled and tilted her head. “You don’t think it’s Raphael?”

Rowen’s brow creased and he stared her down for several moments. “Simply because you asked, I'm going to say no.”

“He’s not. All of Raphael's Saints are already in Heaven. Same with Michael. We won’t even mention the shit show of what happened when Lucifer walked out and left us with unprotected Saints.”

Rowen hummed and then froze. Azrial watched as his eyes glazed over in thought, and she sipped her wine and braced herself for the realization.

“I’m an idiot.”

The statement made Azrial snort, “I wouldn’t say-”

Rowen cut off her quip and stared at her. “It’s you. You called Crowley off when he was about to kill me. You only had to protect Bobby.”

“I also said he could kill you later.”

She didn’t think the diversion would work, and the dry look she got in response made it clear it didn’t.

“You work for _Death_ , for all I know Crowley is meant to kill me.”

Azrial sighed and finished the glass of wine. “Yes. I’m the archangel in charge of you. Sorry, you drew the short straw.”

And he had. Rowen was her last Saint, the rest in the coming years would belong solely to Gabriel who’d had none thus far. Apparently, their Father had planned for Gabriel flying the coop, but she wondered why He thought Gabriel would come back. Well, no accounting for blind optimism. 

“I don’t think I did.”

The soft admission had Azrial staring at the human across from her. The sincerity in those five tiny words were touching, and Azrial stood up.

“I should get back to my brother.”

Rowen looked at her for several moments before sighing, “Of course. It was,” he paused and Rowen finally stood up. “it was nice. Seeing that angels aren’t all, what did Dean call them? Dicks with wings.”

Azrial laughed at that and looked at the wilting flowers in the center of the table. She touched the leaves, bringing the flowers back to full bloom. She also placed a new flower in the center as a silent peace offering for allowing her to stay. Rowen looked strangely at the vase but then froze seeing the delicate white flower amongst his wife’s roses.

“Azrial-”

“Stay safe, Father Anderson.”

Azrial ignored the almost choked way the man had uttered her name as she left his house in a flutter of wings. One day, he would die and the inquisitive man could ask her anything he wanted. Tonight though, she’d talked enough about the past.

**Line Break**

_December 25, 2009_

Sam ducked into the kitchen as his brother called to grab him another beer. He snorted as the sounds of _A Christmas Story_ trickled in from the living room. Dean insisted that the next movie they were watching was _It’s a Wonderful Life_ purely so Castiel would understand more angel related references. It was peaceful, and Sam loved it. Loved being with his brother, Bobby, Castiel, Jo, and Ellen for something other than a world-ending hunt.

Yet there was a feeling of guilt that kept clawing at the back of his mind. 

Sam sighed and shut the fridge door after he pulled out two more beers. He set them down on the kitchen table and popped the tops off. There was the gentle sound of wings, far too many to be Castiel, and Sam spun to see Gabriel there with his hands raised. The sound of the TV became more muted, and Sam watched the archangel warily. 

“What are you _doing_ here?”

Sam hissed the question, but it lacked any real heat. It was a hard pill to swallow, but they owed Gabriel their lives. That earned a little respect even if the former Trickster drove him batty. Gabriel moved forward, his hands still in clear view.

“Wanted to bring a little Christmas cheer, but also didn’t want to interrupt all of you.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at Gabriel’s soft voice. He appreciated the archangel not barging in, but he didn’t know if this was any better. Gabriel seemed to take Sam’s silence as a cue to keep going.

“Azrial’s awake.”

Sam zeroed in on Gabriel at that announcement. The archangel’s lips twitched slightly and he added, “If you keep looking at me like that, Samsquatch, I might just have to kiss ya.”

Sam glared at the teasing tone but the archangel looked unrepentant. Instead of arguing Sam steamed forward.

“She’s okay then?”

Gabriel nodded and Sam let out a relieved sigh. Castiel would be thrilled to hear that.

“Will she be coming to see us? I mean, will Crowley even let her?”

Gabriel looked at him strangely until the archangel seemed to have a lightbulb moment.

“Eh, sorry to say but Azrial isn’t _with_ Crowley. She’s been chilling with me for the past two days. This is just the first time I’ve been alone to come tell ya.”

Sam didn’t know what to say. He had a ton of questions at Gabriel’s blasé announcement that Crowley and Azrial weren’t around each other. That seemed _wrong_ after the way Crowley had acted. Sam opened his mouth, but Gabriel held up a hand.

“Don’t ask kiddo. I don’t have the answers, because I didn’t ask her. It’s likely nothing and they’ll be fine in a few months.”

“But the apocalypse-”

Gabriel laughed and gave Sam a strangely warm smile that looked oddly out of place given the archangel’s past behavior.

“Azrial will keep her word. Can’t speak for Crowley, but everything will be fine. The world’s still spinning today, so go enjoy some family time.”

Gabriel’s suggestion had a slightly commanding edge. Sam could even pick up on a tinge of jealousy. 

“Thanks.” Gabriel cocked his head in confusion and Sam added. “For telling me. I’ll let Cas know.”

The archangel hummed and turned to look into the living room with a strange expression. Sam couldn’t place it, but then it passed and Gabriel turned away with a shrug.

“Don’t mention it, Sam-squatch. Have a good Christmas.”

The archangel was gone and the sound of the TV from the living room increased once more.

“Oi, Sammy! Where’s that beer?”

Sam shook his head and grabbed the beer, surprised they were still cold.

“Coming, jerk!”

Sam walked back in the living room, collapsing onto the floor on Castiel’s right side. The angel had found himself between him and Dean more often than not these days, and it amused Sam to no end. His brother had the strangest ways of showing affection. 

“Here’s your beer, now shush this is the best part.”

Dean huffed but Sam just smiled relaxing as they all watched the movie. 

_Hey, Gabe,_ Sam doubted the archangel was one for prayers but he wouldn’t let the snarky Trickster get the last word. _Merry Christmas_.


	20. Guilt Trips and Glenfiddich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters before "The King's Sword" wraps up. Make sure your subscribed to either this story or me that way you know when the next arc goes live.

_ December 26, 2009 _

Crowley groaned and rolled over trying to ignore the ringing in his head. He vaguely recalled being four bottles deep into his prized whiskey collection, but everything else was a blur. Well, everything but why he was drinking in the first place. Why would Azrial  _ ever _ give him the peace of mind to get drunk without being part of the damn problem? 

A tiny huff from his side caused Crowley to shoot up as he stumbled out of the bed. The body still in it didn’t move, clearly exhausted as it curled deeper into the sheets. Crowley hissed as his head did a winning impression of a maraca before settling down once more. His dark eyes ran over the feminine form in the bed. She had mossy dark brown, almost black hair, and pale skin. Nothing impressive, and the sex certainly hadn’t been worth the energy either. He scanned the room and found his clothes haphazardly tossed over a chair, and Crowley took a deep breath. He’d been wasted, on single malt whiskey no less, and clearly shacked up with the first warm body that was willing.

“Damnit.”

He exhaled the word as he quickly dressed, not even bothering to fully button his shirt. He needed to be underground, not-

“Where the hell am I?”

Crowley sighed as he rubbed his temple and pulled back the shitty blinds to look outside. How did he end up in a  _ Motel _ ? He was never drinking that much single malt again. This reminded him too much of the night he died, and his utter lack of memories from that moment beyond being so  _ so  _ close to getting laid one last time by an utterly flirtatious drunk woman. 

“You leaving, good looking?”

The twinge of Brooklyn accent had Crowley turning to the woman who was looking at him curiously. She’d sat up, not bothering to cover her chest as she stretched her arms.

“I was.”

“That’s good. I have to head to work. Don’t worry,” she winked, and Crowley realized she had icy grey-blue eyes that made him do a double-take. “I’ll take care of the room.”

Crowley watched cautiously as the woman crawled out of bed and grabbed her jeans and t-shirt. Somehow he expected an attack, it was her eyes he thought mutely, but she never did. She simply headed toward the bathroom and gave a slight wave.

“Well, see ya. Hope you work shit out with that girlfriend of yours.” 

The bathroom door shut just as he raised his hand to incinerate the woman, but he sighed and dropped his arm. No need to draw attention. Best just to leave and forget this whole string of whiskey induced bullshit. He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

No missed calls. Zero messages.

With an annoyed hiss, he vanished from the rundown motel room and appeared in one of his lesser frequented hideouts. Painfully cold air was leaking through the poorly insulated cabin, and Crowley absentmindedly snapped his fingers to light the fireplace as he dropped his jacket onto the ratty recliner. The smell of whiskey still clung to his body, and it was an irritating reminder of what had occurred. He fell back onto the chair and tried to ignore the bone-breaking migraine. 

_ You did this to yourself _ .

The tiny voice, certainly not his self-preservation, whispered in the back of his mind. 

“She did this. Should have just let me die.”

Great. Now he was talking to himself. He hadn’t felt this crazy since he’d first crawled out of Hell centuries ago. 

_ Yet you’re all alone now. No friends. No allies. A death sentence on your head _ .

Crowley growled and shook his head. Demons didn’t have  _ friends _ . 

_ “I like to think we’re friends, Crowley.” _

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he recalled Azrial’s parting words three years ago. Friends. She, an archangel, had called them friends with far more affection than he’d heard in a long time. Even if he felt he had no friends, she obviously didn’t. What did it matter though? He’d finally gotten rid of her. Finally.

_ And now you’re all alone. Congratulations, Mother would be proud. _

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Crowley focused on the alcohol still lingering in his system in a vain attempt to forcefully get rid of it. If he was thinking about his  _ Mother _ , this had gone too far. “She wasn’t even that good in bed. Alone is far better, and far safer.”

_ Is it though? _

Crowley paused at that thought. He hated the regret that tried to crawl into his mind, but in this case, the question was worth asking. Was he safer with Azrial gone? In some ways, he was, and in others, he was so royally boned. If he were Azrial though, he’d have let him die. It was nothing personal, but Lucifer’s death was more important than one person. Or it had been. Self-preservation seemed at war with the fear and unexpected  _ pain _ he’d felt when she’d fallen. 

_ She’s not you. _

And that was it, wasn’t it? That’s why he was struggling so much. He’d have let her die to further his goals, not realizing the cost until it was too late, and she’d give her life to honor their agreement.

Their Deal.

Not that the humans knew, or ever would know, that such a thing existed.

“Enough. She’s gone.”

He growled the words, and the blissful silence allowed him to shut his eyes. She was  _ gone _ and that was the end of it. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

**Line Break**

Gabriel walked into his dimensional hideout to see his sister spread out on his couch in a pair of sweats and a worn t-shirt nursing a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. His brows creased at the B rated action flick she was watching, and wondered why she seemed relatively at ease. She’d been an emotional wreck when she’d shown up three days ago. It seemed to be from her injuries and a jarring wake up, but he couldn’t know for sure because Azrial wouldn’t tell him. He made his way over to her and flopped onto the couch. She huffed scooting her feet out from behind him and dropping them uncaringly on his lap. The smell of sugar hit his nose, and he grinned seeing the marshmallows and chocolate and nabbed the pint from her mid scoop. 

“Hey!”

The objection was muffled around a spoon full of pure sugar, and Gabriel ignored his sister in favor of materializing a spoon. He got the ice cream onto the spoon and in his mouth just as a fuzzy sock-clad foot was shoved against his cheek making him gag slightly.

“Get your own ice cream. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

The lack of heat in Azrial’s annoyed question made Gabriel snort and he shoved her foot away. She didn’t try to wrestle the pint back, and they fell into a comfortable silence. Despite himself, he reached out one of his overly large wings to rest over her. It didn’t matter if it remained in the astral realm, the effect was immediate and it was satisfying to see the minute tension melt from her back. 

“What are you so busy with?”

The question was asked as he felt a wing reaching back and his lips twitched in response. Azrial didn’t pull her eyes away from the TV as she responded.

“Plotting.”

“Sounds ominous.”

He frowned at the hum from his sister. Her fingers tapped her knee, and she added softly.

“I think I may have an idea on how to deal with Michael.”

It felt like a lead weight dropped into his stomach, and Gabriel scrambled for a subject change. The only thing that came to mind may be just as dangerous though.

“How do you think Crowley is handling you up and leaving? He was rather-”

Gabriel’s teasing comment was cut off by Azrial’s laugh. She took another scoop of ice cream before casually answering.

“Do you want the honest answer or the one that makes it seem like I thought through sleeping with him?”

“The fact you have two different answers is very concerning.”

Azrial snorted at his observation and poked him with her foot again. He batted her away with a smirk.

“Be honest with me, Sis. Can’t be any worse than the shit I’ve pulled.” 

Azrial hummed and seemed to consider his words. The silence stretched on though, and she seemed to be lost in thought until he tapped her knee.  Azrial shook her head and sighed, “I’m sure he’s fine. Feeling a bit paranoid and hiding out somewhere I couldn’t easily get to, but fine.”

“Does that bug you? I mean-”

His question was cut off by a sharp laugh, and Azrial’s face pinched slightly with pain. It was gone a moment later as her laughter died down.

“Bug me? No. I knew what I was getting into. He’s a  _ demon _ , Gabriel, and to forget that would be a mistake. I certainly didn’t sleep with him thinking anything more than sexual pleasure was being exchanged.”

Gabriel bit his tongue as he watched Azrial’s eyes carefully. She could hold a wonderful poker face, but her eyes could give her away in a second. They shined with something he couldn’t place though. Bitterness? No. There was no malice there, but then what? She raised an eyebrow at him and Gabriel coughed.

“Well, was the sex at least good?”

Her laughter this time was genuine, and Gabriel watched it light up her face with a sigh of relief. As much as he hated it, it was time to focus. Maybe it was because the distraction failed miserably, but now the original topic seemed far safer.

“So,” he began easily. “You have a plan for our big bro?”

The laughter died, and Azrial mirrored his seriousness as she sat up fully.

“I do, and I think we may be able to put a stop to this once and for all.”

He sat up straighter at the confidence in her voice even as he tried not to get his hopes up. There may be two of them now, but they still had three siblings lusting for the end days like virgins at bandcamp. Still, maybe they had a shot. Maybe.

**Line Break**

_ December 28, 2009 _

Bobby stiffened and pulled his gun aiming it before the being fully appeared. He stared for several moments before slowly lowering the gun and sat back down glaring slightly.

“So you’re alive?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, Singer.”

He huffed and eyed the archangel. There was something off about her, and she seemed to be looking around his study with a distracted curiosity.

“Why the hell you here, princess?” 

Azrial snorted but didn’t turn back to him. There were two packages clutched in her hands, and she gripped them tightly at his words. Bobby wondered what the angel was playing at. It was the middle of the night, and she’d chosen a moment when all three boys were absent to show up. Why?

“You gonna answer me, or just stand there all night?”

“I need a favor.”

Bobby stared for several long seconds waiting for the inevitable punchline. Azrial simply turned toward him with blank eyes and raised an eyebrow at his lack of response.

“And why should I do you a favor?”

Annoyance dripped off his question, and the emotionless facade cracked as Azrial’s lips fell into a tight line. She walked forward, setting both packages on the desk, and leaned forward.

“Because Dean would be  _ dead _ right now if it weren’t for me.”

Bobby stiffened at the flat response. There was no malice, just a matter-of-fact commentary on what had occurred. In a way, that was far worse than her maliciously holding it over his head. 

“Beyond that,” she sighed, and finally removed her hand from the packages and pushed the smaller one toward him, “I’m not in the business of asking something for nothing.”

He frowned, but slowly pulled the basic brown wrapping off the package. His eyes narrowed on the aged leather holding the hand-sewn book together. The cover was blank and he carefully opened it and found himself staring blankly at the first page.

“This isn’t real.”

“Oh, ye of so little faith.”

Azrial’s amused exhale didn’t help him tear his eyes away from the text that now lay on his desk. He had the urge to call Rowen just to clarify that while this text  _ had _ existed, it was definitely destroyed centuries ago. Azrial leaned forward and tapped his nose making the hunter yank his gun off the desk and shove more distance between them than there had been before. She seemed bored and tapped a finger against the text with a knowing smile. Bobby glared, looking between the archangel and the literal gold mine now sitting on his desk with distrust. 

“What the hell are you playing at?”

He growled the question and Azrial snorted. “I need a favor. Wasn’t that clear?”

“You can’t bribe me into helping you, princess. Take the book and leave.”

He wasn’t going to be  _ tempted _ by a damn angel. Couldn’t these overpowered bastards stay in their own lane? Azrial looked crestfallen at his refusal but didn’t pick up the book. Instead, she stood up and seemed to lose every bit of her teasing nature as her hand rested on the other unopened package.

“Robert,” he froze at her use of his first name but didn’t stop glaring. “The favor is simple. You may not even have to do it. More importantly, it will keep those three trouble makers of yours far away from Michael and Lucifer.”

Damnit. Bobby shut his eyes and finally groaned moving back to his desk and sitting down. He gently shut the book and turned his attention toward the serious angel.

“What do you want?”

She tapped the other package and calmly responded, “If I don’t come to pick this up by the second of the New Year I need you to give it to Crowley.”

“Do I look like a damn delivery boy to you?”

He expected his snapped question to be met with a laugh, but Azrial simply stared him down. 

“You look like whatever your  _ family _ needs you to be, Robert Singer. We have that in common.”

Bobby bit his tongue. He hated that she was right, but he wasn’t doing this without knowing the reason why.

“Why not do it yourself?”

“If I don’t come back by the second I won’t be coming back at all.”

The words were said with such conviction, and it took Bobby a moment to realize what she meant. It was none of his business. None of his-

“And you can’t just give it to the bastard now?”

Damnit. He didn’t want to get involved. So she was going off to do something stupid, his boys did that all the time. He took in her somber mood and realized the difference. She had no  _ hope _ whereas his boys seemed to be made of it.

“I don’t know where he is currently, and I don’t have time to go looking for him.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

The question rolled off his tongue and Azrial looked away with a careless shrug. “We aren’t attached at the hip, you know. I didn’t know what he was up to for three years. That’s not the point though,” her eyes swerved back to him. “Do we have a deal?”

Deal. What a loaded word coming from her. His eyes fell to the book in thought.

“It’s real?”

“From my personal collection.”

Bobby sighed and looked back up at the archangel, “I’ll do it.”

Azrial smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes but took away some of the darkness that clung to her. 

“Lovely. The only other thing I ask is that you keep the Winchesters and Castiel as far from the Adirondacks as possible on the 30th. Can you do that?”

She didn’t even have to ask. He didn’t want those three anywhere near the shit show that was likely to follow Azrial. It didn’t hurt that the boys were already westbound as it was. He gave a small nod and she sighed in relief.

“You have my thanks.” She tugged a business card out of her pocket and placed it on the package. Azrial bit her lip looking at it for several moments before turning away with a half-wave, “I’ll get out of your hair then.”

Bobby watched her vanish from sight, and as soon as she was gone grabbed his cell phone. It was late, but hopefully, Rowen was still awake. The phone was barely on its third ring when the man picked up.

“Bobby? Is something wrong?”

The man’s tired voice had Bobby looking back toward the book. “What can you tell me about the Gospel of Eve?”

Several seconds of silence before Rowen laughed quietly. “That it was destroyed. It doesn’t exist anymore. Was lost sometime between the third and fourth century.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Bobby flipped through the pages carefully and stared at the book on his desk. Rowen made a sound of annoyance and asked, “Bobby, it’s late. What’s going on?”

“An archangel just barged in and handed me the Gospel of Eve.”

Silence. Bobby moved the phone away just in time for Rowen’s shout to echo over the phone.

“WHAT?”

**Line Break**

_ December 29, 2009 _

Dean huffed as he pulled into the newest crappy motel for the night. Sam was barely awake in the back seat, and Castiel had been silent since they left Bobby’s. Dean would pay a fortune to find out what had his friend so contemplative.

“Well kids, we’re here. Everyone out.”

Sam grunted as he slowly woke up, and Castiel shook his head and slowly stretched his neck as he got out of the car. Dean was about to tell them to hang out here while he got a room when a smooth voice interrupted them.

“Well, hello boys. Aren’t you a hard lot to find?”

Dean spun around and had his gun cocked and aimed at the demon before his half-awake companions managed to do the same. Crowley had his hands up in a clear sign of peace, but Dean didn’t lower his gun. The demon looked worn down, and far less put together than normal. Dean couldn’t help but be a smartass, especially given his last experience with the uptight bastard.

“Lookin’ a bit shabby their, Crowley. Your girlfriend stop setting out your clothes?”

The demon growled but didn’t overtly respond to the insult. There was an air of mourning that clung to him, and the demon huffed. 

“You wouldn’t understand fashion if it bit you on the arse, Squirrel. May I recommend you idiots get out of the open? We’re all on the most wanted list.”

Dean hated that he found himself relaxing, but he couldn’t keep a gun pulled on the demon in an open parking lot. Castiel was a quick enough draw that it shouldn’t matter much anyway. He holstered his gun and leaned against Baby and stared Crowley down.

“Azrial’s dead, isn’t she? That’s why you’re here. You need a new hidey-hole.”

It was a lie. Sam had mentioned Gabriel’s flyby on Christmas, but he wanted to know if what the Trickster said was true. Crowley’s blank eyes stared back at him before he snorted. A moment later a dark chuckle broke through the demon’s hand as he rubbed his face.

“Not that I care, but she’s fine. I’m surprised she hasn’t come rushing to check on Feathers.”

Dean shot Castiel a look and wasn’t surprised by the momentary relief that flashed through his eyes. Neither Gabriel nor Crowley were trustworthy, but if they were agreeing on something it was likely true. Sam snorted, and Dean shot his brother a warning look but it was ignored as his brother rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you don’t care?” Sam questioned, and Dean slowly unholstered his gun as Crowley tensed. “So that’s why you ran off with her? Right. Makes perfect sense.”

His little brother was in top form with bitchface #3 proudly on display. Crowley tilted his chin and somehow managed to look down on them despite being the shortest one in the parking lot.

“Think you know me, Moose?”

The challenge was clear, and Dean shot a look around the empty motel parking lot for cameras. This could get messy, and it would be hard enough to hold his brother back without having to cover the scene up. 

“I think,” Sam began with a tight smile as he eyed Crowley. “You’re either lying about not caring, or you’re being honest. If it’s the latter, and let’s be honest how  _ can’t  _ it be, then you’re as worthless as the rest of the demons running around.” 

Dean blinked at the venom dripping off Sam’s voice and shot Castiel a worried look. Betray me once shame on me apparently, because Sam didn’t seem keen for a second go with demonkind. Crowley’s lips curled into a predatory smile and lifted his hand. Casy drew his blade, but it was too late as they were thrown several feet back by the demon.

“Worthless? No. Now as cold-blooded,” Crowley paused and smirked at them. “No, even then I far surpass most demons. Take my advice or don’t, boys. The world’s about to go up in flames, and I don’t intend to burn with it.”

Dean pulled himself to his feet, but Crowley had already vanished. He huffed and rubbed his sore shoulder as he shot Sam a dirty look.

“Nice going, Samantha. Just piss off the powerful demon who could snap our necks.”

“Bite me, Dean. I didn’t say anything the two of you weren’t thinking. Let the bastard rot.”

Dean sighed and turned to Castiel, and the angel slowly nodded in agreement with Sam.

“I agree. We tried working with him. Moving forward, we would be better off making our own plans.” 

Dean grunted and slowly walked to the trunk pulling it open to grab his bag as he mulled over the situation. He tossed Sam his bag and grabbed Castiel’s as he shut the trunk.

“Can’t say either of you is wrong, but what happens if the bastard ends up having a solution again?”

Sam shouldered the bag as they made their way toward the motel office, and Castiel carefully fielded the question.

“Then we can reopen this discourse. For now, his one  _ ace _ ,” the air quotes Castiel did make Dean snort. “Walked out. Crowley has nothing to offer us.”

Dean nodded as he waved for them to wait outside, but added as a final thought.

“Just remember the world is burning. I’d love to go back to the days of shoot first, ask questions later, but right now we need all the intel we can get.”

His brother and Castiel both gave begrudging nods and Dean sighed in relief as he stepped into the motel office with a charming smile. He hated to be the one to play devil’s advocate, but someone had to and his family was far too biased to it right now. Hopefully, that bias didn’t come back to bite any of them. 


	21. Judas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? The next chapter? Indeed. The final chapter will go live on Saturday and then I'll be going on hiatus until January 16, 2021. 
> 
> I'll post an update here to let everyone subscribed know when the next arc is up. The Saturday posting schedule will be kept with the next arc.
> 
> CW: Gaslighting, Racist undertones, and Death

_ December 31, 2009 _

Michael found himself observing Earth for what felt like the millionth time in the past year. He never understood why he chose to do it, but his days seemed to consist of nothing more than dealing with petty squabbles and watching the humans from the comfort of his throne. Raphael wasn’t much for company, they simply didn’t share much in common beyond being brothers. Michael would never admit it out loud, but he had more in common with Lucifer than he did with Raphael. 

He sighed, pushing away thoughts of happier times. It wouldn’t do to dwell on the past. Especially with the possibility of Gabriel returning hanging over his head like a poised blade. That, and the grace he felt with his younger brother. The heavy, almost demonic, not that he could make that comparison back at the dawn of creation, grace that had been absent for thousands of years.

The God Spear. Death’s right hand. 

His sister.

Michael huffed and shook his head. There was no proof, and Lucifer’s presence on Earth was simply making him long for a time before all this began. Nothing more. 

It would all be over soon. The world, and humanity, would know the ultimate peace. Just as Father had planned.

“Michael, you seem lost in thought.”

The emotionless voice jolted him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see that Raphael had entered the throne room. His dusk colored form and sharp lilac eyes were a stark contrast to the overpowering white that surrounded them. Michael took solace in his younger brother’s presence.

At least he wasn’t alone. He still had someone to help him run Heaven, to fulfill their Father’s plan.

“I was checking on my vessel. Everything seems in order, and it appears our concern from a week ago was for nothing.”

“What a relief. The last thing we need-”

Raphael’s exhaled statement was cut off by a massive surge of power causing the steady glow of Heaven’s light to flicker for a brief moment. Michael sat up straighter, expecting the appearance of Lucifer or Gabriel. Only an archangel, or their Father, could cause such a noticeable reaction.

_ Well, well, well. So everything’s still running upstairs? Good on you, Mikey. _

The sarcasm dripping of the male voice clued Michael into whose words were echoing through Heaven. Raphael’s mouth had fallen open, and Michael huffed as he relaxed against his chair and responded just as publicly. The last thing he needed was Heaven thrown into chaos.

_ Must you be a child, Gabriel? If you wish to speak with me, do so in person. _

Silence was his only response as the lights flickered once more. What was Gabriel playing at?

_ No offense to you, brother;  _ The female voice echoed around him, and Michael’s head snapped to look at Raphael. His younger brother seemed to be in shock as the voice continued,  _ But I’m not going to walk back into Heaven when there is no guarantee of my safety. Why don’t you come see me, instead? _

Michael was on his feet, throwing open the throne room doors and entering the chaos both announcements had brought. Angels were yelling, some close to the fighting, as questions were being flung around and answers demanded. 

It was insanity, but as a location flashed in his mind Michael couldn’t be bothered to tame it as he moved through the mob of angels. Most still parted as he moved, but others were far too frenzied to stand on protocol.

He turned back toward his brother and snapped, “Raphael, find a vessel. We’re going to Earth.”

**Line Break**

Sam set the take out in front of Castiel and Dean, as they continued to research the latest case. They were getting nowhere fast and it was beginning to look like there may not be a case at all. Sam was beginning to wonder if there was a hunt here at all. That wouldn’t make sense though. Bobby had put them on this hunt, so there had to be  _ something _ . Maybe they just weren’t seeing it yet. Dean grabbed his food absentmindedly with a grunt of thanks, not bothering to lift his head from the book he was paging through. Castiel hadn’t moved though, and Sam frowned at the glassy-eyed look the angel was sporting. 

“Cas, you okay?”

Sam’s question made Dean look up from his book, burger halfway to his mouth. When Castiel still didn’t respond, Dean set his burger down and gently shoved his shoulder. 

“Cas, man, you’re freaking us out.”

The half-joke fell flat when Castiel’s brow’s creased, and a moment later the angel ducked his head with a familiar groan of pain. Dean stiffened, and Sam watched his brother gently pull Castiel back into an upright position. The angel’s head couldn’t stay up though and leaned over to rest on the nearest surface. Sam snorted despite the severity of the situation as Castiel’s head slammed into Dean’s shoulder as gravity took hold. His brother huffed but didn’t push the shaking angel off.

“What are they saying? I’ve never seen angel radio affect you this badly.”

Sam nodded at Dean’s question, though he doubted the half-aware angel noticed. Castiel took a deep breath and dragged his head up off Dean’s shoulder. 

“We are all going to die.”

Sam stiffened at the deadpan statement, and Dean shot him a startled look before turning back to Castiel. “Are you sure the yelling didn’t knock a screw loose, Cas?”

Castiel shook his head, a frown forming as he sat up straighter. “There are no screws to knock loose, Dean. It seems the end of the world is happening and Michael and Lucifer have no interest in using you now.”

Sam felt his mouth go dry but cleared his throat. “How do you know that?”

Castiel turned his abnormally stormy eyes toward him, and Sam swore he felt the angel’s fear. “The five archangels are meeting alone, and that never ends well for anyone.”

Sam felt his heart drop into his stomach, as Dean cursed and grabbed his phone. Who his brother was calling Sam didn’t know, but he couldn’t understand how anyone could help at this point. Castiel was right, they were dead.

**Line Break**

Gabriel sighed, and Azrial gently kicked the back of his calf in response. “Stop sighing, it was getting old the first hundred times.”

Her nonchalant statement made Gabriel shake his head. How was she so calm? His eyes darted back to her, and he noticed her foot tapping impatiently against the ground, and her fingers drumming rapidly against her knee. Well, maybe not  _ calm _ then, but she certainly put on a good show of it. Her face was impassive, and her eyes completely blank. The fidgeting was something he knew Michael and Raphael wouldn’t recognize as nerves because Azrial had never acted that way back in the good old days. It was something he’d noticed when they met up 20 years ago, and it had amused him back then.

Now, it just felt like another reminder of how  _ different  _ everything was. How different he was.

A loud flutter of wings made him stiffen, and Gabriel got his first look at Michael and Raphael in millennia. He felt his back tense, and he knew his wings had reached out to block Azrial somewhat. It was reflexive. He’d only just gotten her back. 20 years was nothing to them, and he had far too much to lose if this meeting went sideways. 

“Gabriel,” Michael began carefully, and his eyes moved past him to Azrial. Gabriel could see the warring emotions reflected in the vessel’s eyes. “Azrial.”

Michael had turned her name into an unending question. Gabriel darted his eyes toward Azrial as she stood up. She slowly walked to stand at his side, and Gabriel had to push down the need to put her back behind him.  _ She’s not a fledgling _ , he reminded himself.

“Michael,” her voice cracked, and her eyes moved toward Raphael. “Raphael. It’s good to see you both.”

Michael stepped forward, and Gabriel stiffened as he reached out to touch Azrial’s shoulder. His knuckles turned white as he gripped her shoulder, and Azrial gave a tentative smile. Michael exhaled, and it came out like a half-laugh.

“It’s so good to see you both.”

Gabriel felt his shoulders unwillingly relax at the warmth in Michael’s voice. Raphael was still stiff, and his vessel appeared a touch sickly but that wasn’t a surprise. Michael was more attached to them both than Raphael, and this turn of events was likely a bit much for the youngest archangel.

“Well, don’t get too emotional about it Mikey.”

Gabriel teased, and Michael snorted as he looked around the space they were in curiously. 

“This is impressive, Gabriel. Your powers have truly grown. We couldn’t even detect this space until we were inside it.”

Gabriel blinked at the praise but shrugged uncomfortably. 

“Well, when you need to get creative,” Gabriel paused and snapped his fingers, and the living space reduced into a small area with five comfy chairs. “You do.”

“Well, you had a good reason,” Raphael said carefully, his vessel’s female voice throwing Gabriel slightly. “You didn’t want to be found after all.”

The backhanded comment irked him, but Gabriel kept his silence. He saw Azrial bristle as she sat back down, but his sister kept silent. Gabriel knew he had as much to worry about between Raphael and Azrial as he did between Michael and Lucifer when the bastard decided to show his face. Michael took a seat with the same royal bearing that Gabriel remembered. Despite the youth of his vessel, his brother seemed to take control of the room without effort. There was something familiar about the twenty-something man Michael was wearing, but Gabriel couldn’t put his finger on it. Instead, he sat down next to Azrial which prompted Raphael to fall stiffly into the seat.

“So, what did you both wish to speak about?”

Michael’s conversational tone was almost welcoming, but Gabriel doubted it would remain that way. Azrial’s lips pulled into a polite smile as she tilted her head at Michael’s question.

“Logistics, brother. I’m sure it would be nice to speak with a military equal after so long.”

Gabriel shot her a warning look when Raphael huffed. It seemed she couldn’t help but get a barb in after all. Michael laughed, which seemed to annoy Raphael all the more.

“I have missed our talks, sister. Is there something you think I could improve?”

If that question was directed at anyone else, Gabriel would scream about it being a trap. In this case, Michael seemed pleased at Azrial offering her thoughts. It may have been back handed, but perhaps Azrial was right and Michael missed having a tactical equal around. Raphael was smart, almost too smart at times, but he wasn’t militaristic like Azrial and Michael. 

“It’s about damage control. You see-”

Azrial was cut off by another flutter of wings, and Michael stiffened as soon as the oppressive aura could be felt in the room. Azrial winced, and Raphael looked furious as Lucifer moved forward with a grin.

“Well, isn’t this adorable. Family reunion?”

Michael didn’t stand up, but his eyes traced Lucifer’s movements as he plopped down into the empty chair with a smirk.

“You’re late, Lucifer.”

Gabriel knew that would be the case, but he couldn’t keep the annoyance out of his voice. Lucifer chuckled and kicked his legs over the arm of the chair with a lazy grin.

“Well, I was in shock. You’re the  _ second _ sibling to come back from the dead in the past few days.”

The pointed remark made Azrial bristle, and she looked away from Lucifer, a sickly color taking over her face. Michael’s eyes narrowed at the interaction, and Raphael seemed to sit up a bit straighter. 

“Speaking of,” Lucifer sang, turning to Michael with hard eyes. “You owe me an apology.”

“I owe you no such thing, Lucifer.”

Michael’s growled statement made Lucifer cluck his tongue, the knowing look never leaving his face. His eyes did harden though, and Gabriel felt all the tension coming back.

“Oh, but you do. The last thing you accused me of before shoving me into the cage was killing Azrial, yet here she sits.”

A tense silence fell over the room, and Michael looked a touch sick. Gabriel didn’t blame him. At the time, Lucifer killing Azrial seemed to be the only logical explanation. Now, they still didn’t know  _ who  _ did it, or how they’d stolen Michael’s spear to do so. Azrial didn’t remember, and even if she did the person had stabbed her through the back. Raphael had only found her in time to see her die and assumed it was Lucifer who’d done it. Gabriel had left shortly after, and he never knew if anything else came of it.

“That doesn’t negate your other sins.”

Michael’s tense response made Lucifer snort as he moved his cold gaze toward Azrial.

“No, but that’s the only one you really  _ cared  _ about. It was the reason you got off your self-righteous ass and finally shoved me into the cage.”

Azrial huffed, and Michael turned toward her. 

“Is it true that he didn’t kill you?”

She sighed, and Gabriel could see the weight of everything settling over her. He wished there was an easier way to deal with this, but she was right. Facing this crap head-on was the only way to  _ maybe _ get their siblings to stand down.

“I never saw my attacker, and Death never told me. Lucifer is many things, but back then I don’t think he’d have planned something like that. Especially not by using your spear.”

Lucifer seemed pleased, but Michael had grabbed onto something else in Azrial’s explanation. 

“Back then?”

The tense question had Gabriel looking between Michael and Lucifer. He was ready for them to leap at each other. If that happened, fuck these peace talks. He was going to grab Azrial and bolt to the other side of the planet whether his sister liked it or not. Azrial rolled her eyes and sent a dirty look at Lucifer.

“Well,  _ someone _ decided that shattering an angel blade in my chest was a good use of their time while throwing a tantrum a few weeks back.”

Despite the nonchalant way she said it, Michael looked furious and was on his feet moments later. Lucifer’s eyes flashed with panic, and Gabriel stood up without prompting. At least he didn’t have to worry about Raphael at the moment.

“Michael, calm down. She’s fine-”

Michael pushed him aside with a strength that defied his vessel as he stepped up to Lucifer’s chair.

“You dare ask me for an apology after you recently tried to kill her?”

The snarled question was met by Lucifer standing up and pointing at Azrial, “She wasn’t even in her vessel at the time! It was just meant to leave her without-”

Michael cut off Lucifer, and Gabriel cursed as the two were in each other’s faces. 

“You think that makes it better?” Michael’s disbelief hung on the question, and it was clear Lucifer was searching for a way to redirect Micahel. His eyes darted to Azrial, and Gabriel paled.  _ Dear Dad _ , he begged,  _ don’t do it Luci _ .

“Well if miss perfect over there wasn’t  _ fucking  _ and  _ protecting  _ a demon, it never would have happened!”

Azrial was on her feet, and Gabriel felt his heart sink as everything began to unravel.

“How  _ dare _ you! I was trying to reason with you, and you-”

Azrial’s angry tirade was cut off by Raphael who laughed, and she turned her furious gaze toward him. Gabriel got between his younger siblings, leaving Lucifer and Michael to fend for themselves as he faced Azrial.

“Azrial, don’t. We had a plan-” Gabriel’s plea was cut off by Raphael standing up.

“No, let her speak, Gabriel. I’m sure the  _ traitor _ must have something useful to say.”

Gabriel held Azrial back, but she growled over his shoulder. “Oh, that’s rich coming from  _ you _ , Raphael. How does it feel to be the most indecisive bastard in the world?”

Raphael bristled, and Gabriel shut his eyes as the yelling ramped up. Why did he think this would work? Michael’s booming voice carried over it all, “Enough!”

For a moment, it was like old times. Silence filled the room and they all turned to look at Michael. His face was pinched, and it was clear he was done playing nice. He turned his eyes toward Azrial and demanded, “Explain the accusation.”

Azrial turned from Raphael, and Gabriel watched as she stared down Michael without a lick of fear.

“I won’t deny it. There is a demon I’m doing business with, and yes there is carnal pleasure exchanged, but he has his...uses.”

Gabriel’s heart broke for the way her voice teetered at the last part. He knew there was more than that behind his sister’s actions. Whether she realized it, well, he wasn’t about to ask.

Michael narrowed his eyes, “What uses?”

Azrial’s eyes darted toward Lucifer, and with a huff, she seemed to realize there was nothing else to lose. Crowley was already on his radar, and if she could convince Michael the demon was useful then at least there would only be fire from one side. She threw her hands up and snarled.

“All of you have such a cozy position in this, sans maybe Gabriel. I’m stuck serving two Masters, and it leaves me having to clean up all the  _ shit  _ you cause!”

Her shouting seemed to take the other three back, and Gabriel snorted. She wasn’t done yet though, and she gestured to Lucifer as she kept her eyes on Michael. “Hell is in disarray. It needs a strong,  _ competent _ , leader. So I found one. If you won, Hell would still need to function, or didn’t you think of that? If Lucifer won, the balance was going to be so thrown off that Hell and Heaven would be facing an influx of souls. Did  _ none  _ of you think of that?”

Michael’s fury bled off, and Gabriel was surprised to see his brother truly considering her words. Lucifer though turned on Azrial with a growl, “You thought I was going to lose?”

Azrial huffed and threw her hands up. “I was planning for  _ all _ eventualities. You know, like a  _ leader _ .”

“How  _ fucking  _ dare you-” Lucifer snarled, but Raphael cut him off with a snapped question.

“So we are just going to forgive her treason because it’s  _ logical _ ?” His demand was directed at Michael, who still hadn’t said anything. Gabriel defended Azrial with a pointed comment to Raphael.

“You do realize if she was doing it under Death’s orders, it wasn’t treason, don’t you?”

Raphael shook his head in disbelief, causing his vessel’s dark hair to swing from side to side. “She’s used that excuse of eons! It’s time to choose a damn side. She’s either with us or against us.”

“That isn’t your call to make, Raphael. It’s Dad’s, and he ain’t here.”

For the first time in all of this, Gabriel let his anger show. This was ridiculous. They’d had a  _ plan _ , yet the moment they were all in the same room it was like they reverted to fledglings. They were no better than bickering children, and he was so  _ sick  _ of it. 

“No, it’s mine.” Gabriel looked at Michael in disbelief, and his brother turned toward Azrial. “Are you with us? With me?”

Azrial’s eyes looked stormy, and Gabriel realized she was blinking back tears. For the first time in all this, he could see that she was hurting as much as he was. All she wanted was her family back, and instead, she was caught between two old dicks playing a fucked up game of chess with all their lives. Gabriel wasn’t naive enough to think Death wasn’t just as involved in this as dear old Dad. 

“Michael,” her voice shook, but she pulled herself together. She lifted her chin, and despite the pain in her eyes, her stance held pride. “I can’t side with  _ anyone _ who threatens to upset the balance so much.”

Michael’s face fell, and Raphael threw his hands up with a nasty smile. “Well, that’s that. She’s a traitor, Michael. This was foolish.”

Michael looked toward Raphel, but Lucifer wasn’t willing to let the conversation rest.

“She isn’t just a traitor to the cause, she’s a traitor to  _ our kind _ .”

Lucifer’s snarled response had Michael snapping, “You assume to be one of us after all this time?”

Lucifer turned to Michael, and with a tone that somehow managed to be saccharine sweet and cold at the same time replied. “Whether you like it or not,  _ big bro _ , I’m still an angel.”

Michael’s eyes flashed, and he snarled quietly. “You will  _ never  _ be an angel.”

It was the final straw, and Gabriel didn’t have a chance to intercede. The two launched at each other, and the room fell into chaos. Azrial had been between them and was trying to break up the fight but failing. Gabriel was frozen, shock preventing him from moving as Raphael moved forward to try and stop Michael. How had it gone so wrong? How had-

A scream snapped Gabriel out of his own mind, and an icy hand wrapped tightly around his heart. 

There was blood.

Blood and ashy wings marring the floor.

Michael looked somewhere caught between shock and horror, and his eyes darted toward him in worry. A blade was held loosely in his hand, and Gabriel felt rage building in his chest. Lucifer also had an angel blade in his hand, and he was looking at the body on the ground with a detached glassy look. Raphael’s eyes were darting between Lucifer and Michael, and he choked out. “What have you both done?”

Gabriel’s eyes stared blankly at the ground and the body that lay there. The tips of the ashy wing imprints reached his feet, and the tip of one had even burned his shoe. He swallowed and moved forward toward the body. His brothers all backed away, and Gabriel knelt down and placed a hand on the still bleeding stomach wound. His grace wrapped around it, and he tried to heal it. If he could heal it, everything would be fine. It  _ had  _ to be okay.

“Gabriel,” Michael’s voice brought the rage he felt to a boil, but he focused on trying to heal the wound. “Gabriel, even you can’t bring back the dead.”

His brother’s voice was gentle, but at his declaration, something snapped. Gabriel felt his powers building and he whispered. “You did this. You both killed her.”

“Gabe, it was an acc-”

Lucifer’s voice had Gabriel snapping his head away from the glassy eyes of his first fledging. Lucifer stepped back, fear flashing across his face.

“A what?” Gabriel snarled, his powers causing the room to shake. “An accident?”

“Gabriel,” Michael spoke again, “Calm down. You’re going to bring this dimension down on our heads.”

Gabriel’s gaze fell back to the glassy eyes still staring at the ceiling and he realized he could still fulfill their goal, even if not how they’d initially planned. 

“That’s a wonderful idea,  _ brother _ .”

The cold comment caused Michael to stiffen, and Lucifer launched at him with a shouted, “Don’t!”

Lucifer never reached him before Gabriel brought the dimension crashing down on their heads while cradling his sister’s body.


	22. What About Us?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who has read this story. The saga will continue in Kingmaker: Death's Play on January 16, 2021. I'll post an update here when it goes live. A special thank you to my lovely beta and best friend, Geethr75. You made this possible, darling. 
> 
> CW: Grief

_ January 4, 2010 _

__ Bobby sat at his desk staring morosely at the package across from him. He’d given her two extra days, and it was only a few minutes until January 5. He tapped his fingers against the desk before reaching out and grabbing the business card that sat on it. It felt heavy in his hand, and he didn’t want to think about  _ why _ that was. Dean had called on the 31 about angel radio going haywire, and Castiel proclaiming it the end of days. After the initial freakout, something strange had happened.

Angel radio had gone silent.

Castiel had called personally at that point. Apparently, there was always constant chatter from Heaven and the angel just tuned it out. This silence was eerie, and Castiel was questioning if they should go underground for a bit until they knew more. Bobby didn’t have the heart to tell the angel what Azrial had said, not until he handed the package off to Crowley. He was hoping the demon would be able to confirm what he already knew, or at least shed some light on the archangel’s thought process.

Bobby huffed and grabbed his phone, dialing the number with growing trepidation. It rang four times, and Bobby was about to hang up when the phone picked up.

“How did you get this number?”

The cool question made Bobby shut his eyes, and he snarked half-heartedly. “From your saner half, bastard.” 

There was a huff, but Crowley calmly responded. “Robert, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Bobby swallowed as his eyes darted to the package. “I need you to come see me, ASAP.”

“While that’s flattering, Robert, I’m not really in the mood to have  _ fun _ .”

Bobby had to bite his tongue bloody to stop from cursing out the demon and hanging up. How was it these two idiots not only tolerated each other but seemed comfortable together? He’d kill the demon if he spent a fraction of the time with him that Azrial did.

The sobering thought made him sigh, and Crowley quickly asked. “There is actually something wrong?”

“Yes,” Bobby responded. “I wouldn’t be calling you 5 to midnight otherwise.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes. Have some manners and don’t shoot me.”

The phone call ended, and Bobby leaned back into his chair. When had life gotten this damn complicated? He missed the days where demon possessions were unlikely, and angels were just cherubs in the clouds. Now he’d just invited a demon into his home, and he was probably handing over an archangel’s will. He was startled from his thoughts by the smell of sulfur, and his instincts kicked in as he leveled his gun at Crowley who’d appeared a few feet in front of him.

“Well, you didn’t shoot,” the demon said with a smirk. “That’s progress.”

Bobby frowned but set the gun down as Crowley came toward the desk. He sat down across from him and raised an eyebrow.

“Well,” Crowley prompted. “I’m here. What’s the new world-ending disaster.”

Bobby silently pushed the package toward him, and Crowley frowned. He ran a hand over the top of it, and Bobby wondered if the demon had a way to tell if something was hexed or trapped. Crowley pulled the twine loose and pushed the brown wrapping paper aside. Bobby could admit he was curious at what the archangel had left for the demon, and found himself carefully watching Crowley’s reaction. The item was an ornate box with a letter on top of it. Crowley’s brows creased and he raised his eyes to him.

“What is this?”

“I don’t know,” Bobby said honestly. “Azrial asked me to give it to you.”

The demon’s lips pursed as he looked at the letter that had his name written in royal blue ink and flowing cursive. He set the letter aside for the moment and opened the box. Bobby stared in shock, and Crowley let out a strangled sound akin to a cat having its tail stepped on.

Nestled between elegant red satin sat Azrial’s archangel blade, a silver chain with an ornate vial twisted around it. Bobby watched as Crowley reached out a trembling hand to caress the vial, and for the first time, he noticed it was lightly glowing.

“That absolutely  _ stupid _ woman,” Bobby exhaled as the pieces finally began falling together. Crowley’s hand was still shaking as he gently, almost caringly, unwrapped the chain from the blade. Crowley held it in front of his face for several moments before gently putting it back in the box before turning back to him.

“How,” the question began shakily, but then Crowley turned absolutely furious red eyes on him. “Where is she? Why the bloody  _ hell  _ did she give this to you!”

Bobby shook his head, the shock of what was in the package outweighing any fear Crowley may have sparked. 

“I don’t know,” Bobby said. “She dropped it off, and asked that if she didn’t come pick it up by the second that I give it to you.”

“That was almost three days ago!”

Crowley’s anger began shaking the room, and Bobby snapped. “Calm the hell down! I gave her more time thinking she’d be back. If I’d  _ known _ what that crazy archangel had handed over, trust me I would have called you sooner.”

And damn it, he  _ would _ have. He’d seen Castiel hurt enough to know that vial contained angel grace, and he knew there was no shortage of nasties who’d want to get their hands on it. That wasn’t evening mentioning the freaking  _ archangel _ blade. His eyes shot to the box, and he noticed that the entire underside of the lid had runes carved into it. Was that the only reason no one detected it? What if he’d  _ dropped _ the damn thing!

“What the hell were you thinking, Azrial?” 

Crowley’s whispered question brought home the gravity of the situation. The demon picked up the letter, and Bobby prayed to God himself that there were some answers in it. He watched as the demon ripped open the envelope, and began reading the letter. As Crowley read, his face went through so many emotions Bobby could barely keep up. Shock seemed prevalent at first, but then there had been something surprising. It was like someone had ripped the demon’s heart clean out of his chest. His hand shook, and Bobby watched Crowley swallow hard as the devastation quickly turned to anger.

“That stupid selfish bitch.”

The words were snarled, and Bobby stiffened as Crowley stood up fast enough to send the chair falling back. He slammed the box shut, and picked it up. The demon was gone a moment later, and Bobby stood to pick up the chair. He blinked noticing the second page of the letter had fallen, though he doubted Crowley had noticed. Curiosity got the best of him, and Bobby picked it up. Most of it was just warnings, and a few jokes he didn’t fully understand. He got to the bottom and Bobby stared in shock at the last part;  _ In the end, we just didn’t have enough time. I stand by what I said though, you have my heart. Be safe, my future King. With love, Azrial. _

Bobby fell into the chair and stared at the end of the letter. He stared at the way the cursive seemed to come alive on the page and realized he could more than sympathize with Crowley’s reaction. 

“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” Bobby whispered the question to the empty room and tried to reason why her silence on the matter bugged him so much.

Suspecting and knowing were two very different things in this case. Had she come to him and said  _ this _ was her plan, he’d have told her she was an absolute idjit. He’d also have ratted her moronic plan out to Crowley, so the demon could talk sense into her. Remind the damn archangel that there were people who needed her alive. Maybe Azrial had known that. 

It didn’t explain why it bothered him beyond wondering what the hell they were all going to do now.

The realization hit him suddenly;  _ I was getting used to her. Now she’s just another casualty of a war we have no hope of winning _ .

Bobby shut his eyes for a moment as he gripped the letter. He stood up with a sigh, folding the letter and placing it between the pages of  _ The Gospel of Eve _ alongside the single black feather that he’d kept. Eventually, Crowley would notice he dropped the letter, and he’d give it back to the grieving demon. For now, a drink sounded good.

A drink to what could have been, and an uncertain future. Come morning, he’d have to call the boys. He wasn’t looking forward to telling Castiel what happened.

**Line Break**

_ January 5, 2010 _

Castiel sat on the hood of the Impala staring blankly out at the busy road in front of him. He rolled the cellphone in his hand, mulling over the news Bobby had given him. Sam and Dean were still in the bar, but Castiel had no desire to go back in. He didn’t want to be around people at the moment.

“Why?”

His question echoed in the cold air, and he picked at the jacket Sam and Dean had gifted him. Sometimes he missed the trench coat Jimmy had worn. Other times, especially around Sam and Dean, the jeans and t-shirts felt better. They distanced him from his siblings and made him seem approachable. His sister had been right about his ability to fight in them. It made life easier.

Castiel frowned, and tightly gripped his cell phone. What had she been thinking? What had Gabriel been thinking? Why didn’t either of them come to him?

“Hey, Cas, everything okay?”

Castiel turned to see Dean coming up to the car, his warm breath making small clouds in the cold night air. Castiel turned away from his friend and shut his eyes as he felt Dean sit next to him on the hood. He took some solace in the warmth Dean radiated, the tangible feeling of his presence. They sat in silence for a few moments before Castiel sighed.

“That was Bobby.”

Dean hummed, “I figured that. New case? Why didn’t he want to talk to me and Sam?”

Castiel shut his eyes and swallowed. He dropped his head and ran a hand through his hair in thought.

“He called with a possible explanation for the silence I’ve been experiencing.”

He could feel Dean sit up straighter at his declaration. Castiel tried to get his thoughts in order before further explaining himself. How did he put into words the sheer chaos he was feeling?

“Well?” Dean prompted, though not harshly.

“Bobby informed me that a few days before the 31 Azrial came to him and dropped off two packages,” Castiel paused, and shook his head clear. “One was for him as payment for handing off the other if she didn’t come get it by the second.”

“Who was the other package for, and what was in it?”

Castiel gripped his phone tighter and could feel the device cracking under the force. A gentle hand came to loosen his grip, and Dean joked lightly. “Careful there, Cas. What did the phone do to you?”

Castiel looked at his friend but released the delicate device. Dean took it and set it on the hood between them before turning his expectant gaze back to him. “That bad, huh?”

“The package,” Castiel huffed. “Contained a letter, her archangel blade, and a vial of grace.”

“What the hell?” Dean’s disbelief dripped off his question, and it aptly summed up how Castiel was feeling. “Who leaves their weapon? Unless-”

Dean cut himself off, and Castiel met his shocked green eyes with a slight nod. He knew where Dean was going, and it explained the silence. 

“Unless they thought a weapon would be useless, and didn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands,” Castiel finished Dean’s thought.

“Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean paused and sent him a worried look. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

Castiel turned away from him and went back to watching the cars zip by on the busy road in front of the bar. “I don’t understand  _ why _ . It was basically suicide and Gabriel not only let her do it but participated.” 

Dean placed a hand on his shoulder, and Castiel looked back at his friend. He was surprised to see an overwhelming understanding in his eyes. 

“We do stupid shit for family, Cas,” Dean paused and looked away with a sigh. “I mean, I’ve done some fucked up shit to protect Sammy. Unlike me, Azrial didn’t have someone to-” Dean cut himself off and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Who got the package?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, his annoyance dripping off his voice. “Crowley did. Bobby said the demon was furious once he realized what it was.”

Castiel couldn’t keep the disbelief from his voice. He didn’t doubt what Bobby had said; the hunter wouldn’t lie about Crowley’s reaction. It still baffled him that Crowley seemed to care, in some demented way, about Azrial. It made him slightly uncomfortable, because if Crowley could care what about other demons? Were there others that would stand against Lucifer with a leader, and would they truly care about the cause?

“Then I stand corrected,” Dean sighed, and Castiel looked at him strangely. “She had someone who would call her bullshit and avoided them until it was too late. I almost feel sorry for the bastard.”

“You seem oddly informed on this matter.”

Dean chuckled and leaned back on the Impala with a sad smile. It seemed to age him several decades, and Castiel found himself gently butting his shoulder against Dean’s. He wasn’t sure what else he could do, but he knew humans were comforted by physical contact. Dean gave him an amused look before turning back to the road.

“When I sold my soul to save Sammy, I didn’t think twice about what it would mean for him or Bobby,” Dean shut his eyes, and Castiel found himself listening intently. “Bobby, well, he went off on me. He started out so furious, but then...well he’ll deny it but we both cried. In a strange way, it was nice to know I was loved. Wanted. But damn it, it didn’t make getting dragged into the pit any easier.”

Castiel mulled over his words before asking, “You think she didn’t tell anyone because it would make it harder?”

Dean shrugged, “It’s what I tried to do, and Azrial seems to be the type who’d do her duty even if it cost her everything.”

Castiel felt a laugh bubbling in his chest, and before he knew it he was laughing loudly. Dean looked at him strangely, but his lips still twitched in amusement. 

“Something I said?” Dean asked, amusement hanging off his every word. Castiel shook his head, and looked up at the stars with a sad smile.

“You just summed up my sister. Duty, even at the cost of your life, was the creed of our flock, and Azrial led by example. She’d have laid her life down if it meant her goal was met.”

“Cas,” Dean paused and gently added. “You know, her goal may have been installing Crowley as the leader in Hell or it may have been to stop the fighting. I can’t say one way or another if this will help either.”

Castiel sighed and nodded in agreement. “You’re not wrong. There isn’t anything we can do about it now.”

A comfortable silence lapsed over them, and Castiel brushed his shoulder against Dean’s again. The physical contact helped ground him to this new reality he found himself in. He couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without the Winchesters. Dean leaned in slightly, butting against him before standing up once more.

“You’ve never been to a hunter’s funeral.”

The casual statement had Castiel tilting his head, “No, I have not.”

Dean hummed and offered his hand with a small smile. Castiel hesitated for a moment before taking it and letting Dean pull him to his feet.

“Well,” he said. “After we burn the body, we always drink. I think, since we don’t have a body, we should have a few drinks. In her name, ya know?”

Castiel stared at his friend, a warmth spreading through his chest. He realized he hadn’t let go of Dean’s hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze before letting it fall.

“I’d like that.”

Dean grinned, and draped an arm around his shoulders, and dragged him back toward the bar. Castiel inhaled the cold air and realized that as bad as things were he still had something he’d always wanted; a real family.

**Line Break**

It was chaos. Pure power flooded the area and seemed to war with each other. Fear dripped off the four astral beings, and he sighed and tapped his cane. It connected with a surface that wasn’t truly there, and the soft click echoed through the shattered dimension. The four beings stopped their chaotic movements and seemed to be frozen in time. He moved forward and with a flick of his hand sent the closest one, a mass of cracked reds and yellows, careening out of the dimension. He did the same to the being of sky blue color and was none too kind to the dawn kissed form that followed shortly after. He came to stand in front of the gold being which was circled protectively around the shattered remnants of grace that hung in the air.  
“You surprised me,” he said softly and ran a hand over the astral being slowly piecing it back together instead of sending it on injured like he had the others. The gold being glowed brighter, and he smirked. “To Earth with you, archangel.”

The gold form vanished a second later, though it fought for a moment to stay wrapped protectively around the shattered grace that hung in the air. He moved forward and was about to touch it when another voice entered the area.

“What are you doing here, Death?”

Death sighed and turned to stand with his back to the shattered grace as he leaned on his cane. “Doing your job it seems.”

The other man sighed, tugging at the belt of his bathrobe with a strange look. “I’ve never known you to  _ heal _ in all the years we’ve known each other.”

Death raised an eyebrow, and the other man seemed to squirm. It always amused him that he had that effect on creatures. Well, his eyes darted to the side where he could just make out the shattered grace, almost all creatures.

“Your son impressed me. Rather creative wasn’t it? Bringing a whole dimension down on his siblings.”

The robed man sighed, and he looked around the area. He seemed to consider it for a moment, before clapping his hands together once, and the area began to repair itself into the sitting room it had once been. Death tilted his head but lifted his hand causing the remnants of grace to float into it as he sat down. The other man fell into the chair with an exhausted huff before turning his piercing stare toward him.

“What do you want?”

The question hung between them, and Death chuckled which seemed to unsettle the other man even more.

“You ask that like you have any ability to  _ stop _ me,  _ Chuck _ .”

The man bristled and narrowed his eyes, “You could at least  _ pretend  _ to respect me.”

Death raised an eyebrow and lifted his cane. Chuck twitched, and without warning, Death hit the man’s forehead with the butt of his cane. The man looked absolutely furious, sputtering incoherently. 

“Be a better parent, and then, perhaps, I can respect you,” He said flatly, and Chuck scowled.

“I’m a creator, not a  _ parent _ . Besides, they are millions of years old.”

“You left them without  _ any  _ guidance. One would think you’d learn after the first dozen times to at least give your eldest a blueprint.”

The sarcasm dripped off his last point, but Death couldn’t be bothered. This was a mess, and if the uppity deity wouldn’t deal with it then he would. Chuck frowned but seemed to mull over his words.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I’m calling in a favor, and if you don’t want to be reaped ahead of schedule you're going to do it.”

Chuck stared at him for several long moments, and it was clear he was weighing up the validity of the threat. With a defeated sigh, the man leaned forward as his eyes sparkled with power.

“Then name your favor, Death.”

Death’s lips twitched, and the broken grace in his hand glowed softly. “I’m glad you see it my way,  _ God _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all in the new year!
> 
> CassandraRose


	23. Arc Two is Live

Hello, my lovelies. Arc 2 of the Kingmaker series is now live. Please check out "Death's Play" on my profile. Also, I wanted to showcase some artwork of Azrial that I had commissioned. Check out the links below:

https://www.deviantart.com/oasiswinds/art/Andromada-sama-Expression-Commission-835424545

https://www.deviantart.com/oasiswinds/art/Andromada-sama-Commissions-820540858

https://www.deviantart.com/oasiswinds/art/Azrial-Character-Design-Commission-814330322

See you all on the flip side!


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